Two Sticks of Bardoll, Not Three!
by animalbowling
Summary: Mistakes in Potions lead to consequences in life. That's right, it's one of those Stuck!together stories. HPDM
1. Two Sticks of Bardoll, Not Three!

A/N: I can't help it, I really like these stories. I _know_ it's cliché, but it's so ... funny! There's so much potential for so many great situations! It's fabulous! If I use enough exclamation points you'll believe me!

* * *

In Draco's humble opinion, Potions class should be outlawed, permanently. At least, they should never let idiots like Crabbe and Goyle take it. Those two morons, with the help of that uber moron Weasley, were the reason he was in his current predicament. _Two_ stems of bardoll, not three! He'd been shouting that for the past half hour, but it didn't really seem to be doing any good. Still, it made him feel better. Snape was livid, but amazingly was livid with him, not with the morons whose fault this was. Snape was such a bastard. I mean, he loved Snape, loved him more than he did his own father (there were some things he had his suspicions about in that department) but sometimes Snape just rubbed him the wrong way. Like, when he yelled at Draco for things that were clearly not his fault. Like being stuck to Harry Potter. It was _not_ his fault. It was Crabbe, and Goyle, and Weasley, and _three_ sticks of bardoll.

Another thing, it was entirely not his fault that there was no reversal to this potion. No _current_ reversal, he told himself. He was confident that Snape would be able to concoct one eventually. After all, he wouldn't leave his godson attached to Harry Potter's hip now would he? He couldn't. It was incredibly awkward to walk this way. Funnily enough, Snape had seemed more sympathetic to Potter's plight than his own. He'd had a stiff wanky for that Potter since scarface had gone and blown up the Dark Lord anyway. Stupid Potter. Stupid Snape. Stupid gross images of Potter and Snape he'd just conjured for himself.

Gah! They'd been like this for three hours now! Surely someone could do something!

Gah! Harry thought, they'd been like this for hours! Surely there was _something _someone could do!

They could not, he repeated to himself, could _not_ leave him attached to Draco Malfoy—at the hip no less. They were walking like a three-legged donkey uphill in the snow. And Malfoy wouldn't stop muttering to himself about the bardoll. Honestly, it was just a little mistake. The only reason that it had gotten so out of hand was because Malfoy had jumped up like the little sissy he was and sprayed the potion all over all of them, and then proceeded to bump into _him_ of all people. Why couldn't he have bumped into Crabbe or Goyle? At least they liked him, and wanted to be attached to him. Or even Ron would have been a better choice. Ron could have simply killed him and then hacked the corpse off of himself. But _no_, it had to be him. He was too nice to kill Malfoy. He was too irritated with him to enjoy being attached to him. Ugh! As if he could ever enjoy being attached to Malfoy! It helped slightly that Ron had gotten attached to Crabbe. At least Harry wasn't alone in this. He could be amused at Ron's plight. And at least, he was attached to Malfoy's hip, not hand-in-hand like Ron and Crabbe. Harry had told Ron that helping people up like that would bite him in the ass someday.


	2. The Horror of Beginnings

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Harry and Draco are approximately the same height.

* * *

Dumbledore was an ass. Plain and simple. Ass. Draco had really had it up to—well—his hip, with all the goody-goodies. Especially Dumbledore. _Absolutely nothing he could do._ That's what he'd said, after they'd three-legged it to his office and gone up those stupid steps. Couldn't he have come down to the dungeons for that? Plus, that bastard, that old utter bastard—had been smiling. Even Potter was annoyed; he was muttering something, God only knew what with Scarhead. Of course it had to be summer when they got stuck like this, it couldn't have been winter when the warmth would have been welcome. Ugh, as if he'd ever welcome Potter's nearness. At least seeing Crabbe and that Weasley prat poncing around hand-in-hand was amusing. Dumbledore had nearly split a gut when he saw them.

"Potter?" Draco said, as they walked towards the dungeons.

"Shut-up, Malfoy."

"That's really not nice Potter. I just wanted to tell you something."

Harry sighed, he wasn't sure that he was going to make it through this without killing Draco after all. "What did you want to tell me Malfoy?"

"Potter I'm really really really hungry."

"For the fifth time, I don't care. We are _not_ going into the Great Hall like this."

"Well why not?" Draco pouted. "Everyone's bound to know by now anyway. Besides, Crabbe and Weasel went in there."

"Yeah well they're ruled by their stomachs, I'm not."

"Well, what if I am?"

"Then it's too bad you connected yourself to me."

Draco was outraged. "I did _not_ connect myself to you on purpose!"

"Whatever Malfoy, lets just go down and see what our new room is like. I know one of the house elves; I'll ask him to bring us something to eat. Ok?"

Draco huffed, "Fine but I want what they had in the Hall, I'm not eating sandwiches."

Harry rolled his eyes.

* * *

Why did they have to live in the dungeon now? As if it was any easier to go down stairs than to waddle up them. Harry guessed that it was so they could be near professor Snape if he ever discovered a cure for their—predicament. It was awful down there though, dank and disgusting and slimy, much like Snape. At least, that's what Harry thought. When they got their new room, he was pleasantly surprised. True, the color scheme was still black and silver and green, but the room was cozy enough. It looked a lot like the dorms in Gryffindor Tower with four beds (albeit two on either side of the room pushed very close together), but this room also had a fireplace of its own, and a small study area with two black leather love seats and some oversized tables against the wall. It was depressingly intimate to Harry's eyes. He couldn't imagine curling up with Malfoy on a love seat to do his homework. It was an awful, awful image.

* * *

Dear God, Draco thought, this was more serious than he'd realized. Their beds were right beside each other! The couches were all… lovey dovey. Ughh how could he have gotten himself into this? Looking around the room he took stock. He and Potter seemed to be on the far side of the room, their trunks were already in front of the beds. The sitting area would do, if he could get over the fact that he had to sit with Potter all the time. There was a door on the far right of the room. He wondered where it went. Then he realized—it would be the bathroom. They would have to go to the bathroom together! Oh but he knew, all along he knew, but this was not ok! Of course, as soon as he thought about a bathroom, he needed to use it. That was always the way these things worked.

"Potter," he said, "I suppose that door leads to the bathroom."

Harry got a panicked expression in his eyes as he glanced over at Draco.

"Don't give me that look Potter. It's been hours. You're bound to have to go by now."

"I do Malfoy, but I was hoping to hold it until I burst and died—thus ridding myself of you." Harry said.

"Very funny. You truly are a wit. Lets go and see what the bathroom's like. Maybe they'll have worked something out for us to have privacy, half walls or something."

"Yeah," Harry looked thoughtful, and mildly grateful, "maybe they have."

But they hadn't. There were four toilets, set up very much like the beds in the room. What did Dumbledore expect, that they would use the bathroom side-by-side? This had to be some sort of sick joke. He could not possibly expect…

"Oh my fucking God!" Harry shrieked.

Draco looked annoyed, "What Potter?"

Harry was just pointing, mute with horror, toward the shower stalls. There were two of them, extra-large, each had two showerheads side-by-side—and no divider.

Draco hung his head, and rubbed his temples tiredly. "Potter?" he said.

Harry turned his head to face Draco, he tried to say _What?_ but could only mouth the word.

"I'm very hungry Potter." Draco said.

Harry nodded, he was thankful for anything to get him away from the horror of the bathroom. But something occurred to him. "Malfoy, you know, eating leads to—" Harry pointed mutely at the toilets.

"Jesus Christ Potter, have some class." Draco snarked.

Harry nodded again, and allowed himself to be pulled from the bathroom.

* * *

When Crabbe and Ron came back into the room, Harry had still not quite recovered. When Ron asked him what was wrong, he pointed at the bathroom door. When he heard Ron's high-pitched shriek, he knew that his best friend understood.

* * *

Later that night when Draco finally insisted that he could hold it no longer, Harry was very grateful that he was not Crabbe or Ron. At least, Draco had the use of both hands. They took one of their bed sheets, and Draco held it up between them primly while Harry peed. When it was Harry's turn, he tried very hard to be as mature about it as Malfoy had been, but ultimately freaked out.

"Malfoy, I can hear you pee!"

"What do you want me to do about it Potter? I can't not make noise. Anyway stop talking to me while I pee. It's very gross."

"What's gross is that I have to hear you."

"I had to hear you. How is it different?"

"This time it's me." Harry whined.

"You're pathetic Potter."

"Shut-up Malfoy."

In bed, Harry was unsure of what to do with himself. He found it impossible to discuss anything with Malfoy. He couldn't tell Malfoy, of all people, that he preferred to sleep on his stomach and toss his legs about at strange angles, so he lay quietly on his back and prayed for sleep to overtake him. It didn't, however, work. He was awake most of the night, desperately trying to keep his legs from accidentally touching Malfoy's legs, trying to will himself to sleep, trying to think of every possible embarrassing thing they would have to do the next day—in order to prepare himself for it. Malfoy on the other hand went to sleep right away. He shifted around a lot and Harry thought that even if he had been asleep it wouldn't have done him much good, as Malfoy would have woken him up every two seconds. All night Harry had to listen to his quiet breathing, interspersed with the heavy snores of Ron and Crabbe across the room. He was in his own, semi-private, hell.


	3. The Morning After

* * *

It was really bloody unfair how well Crabbe was getting along with the Weasel. Honestly, Crabbe was_ his_ peon, not Weasley's. How dare Crabbe think he could just go and get stuck to a Gryffindor and then be happy about it! How dare he think they could just forget everything and be friendly? Ugh, it was infuriating. Crabbe was such a stupid bloody moron.

It was truly disgusting how easily Ron had managed to become accustomed to dragging Crabbe along with him everywhere in just one night. They even seemed, Harry shuddered, like friends. Honestly, he didn't see how they could be getting along so well. Their dilemma seemed much worse, and they hadn't been stuck with it any longer than he and Malfoy.

Harry was obsessed with what Crabbe and Ron did in the bathroom. His mind even dared to venture amazingly far on the roads of homosexual lovin' before it veered off to his own bladder. He shifted in the bed. Neither he nor Malfoy had been willing to admit they'd been awake for some time, but Harry could wait no longer.

"Malfoy I have to pee again."

"Can't you hold it Potter? I'm not sure I could go through the rigmarole with the sheet again."

"Don't you have to go?"

"Not bad enough to hear the tinkle of little drops from you."

"Ugh, Malfoy!"

"What? You mentioned…"

"Would you two shut up?" Ron was exasperated. "I'm trying to bloody sleep over here."

Crabbe grunted in agreement.

"Oh it's all well and good for you Weasel, you and Vin are doing just _fine_ aren't you? You seem to function with the same brain. Get up. Pee. Go back to bed. I'm surprised you two aren't cuddling yet!"

Ron was out of bed in a second, wand raised, dragging a still sleep befuddled Crabbe over on to his bed in the process.

"Well that's one way to get him in your bed Weasel, but I doubt you had to do more than just _ask_. He's probably already missing his teddy."

"Draco…" Crabbe whined.

"Shut-up Malfoy," Ron said, looking a little astonished at himself for sticking up for Crabbe.

"Oh god," Harry whined, "Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. You two aren't…Ron, you wouldn't…"

"Harry!" Ron yelled, then flushed and jerked Crabbe out of the bed to stand beside him. "Wake up you prat, and tell your God over there that we're not like _that_."

"It's good that you've finally acknowledged I'm god-like" Malfoy smirked.

"Shut up Malfoy!" Ron screeched.

"Like what Ron?" Crabbe asked.

Ron growled. "That we're not, you know, _friends_."

"I thought you said last night that we should try to be friends," Crabbe answered, confused.

Ron sighed. "Yes," he said, "but tell him that we're not being gay."

"Oh!" Crabbe looked really astonished, "We're not fucking."

Ron groaned, Harry choked, and even Draco looked a little nauseous.

"Come on Crabbe," Ron said resignedly. "I've got to pee."

That was all Harry could take. "How can you stand it!" he shouted. "How can you take the tinkling noise, and the closeness, and how are you doing it with one hand?"

Ron looked bemused. "You are a wizard aren't you Harry? You have heard of a silencing charm? And we just, make do with one hand." Ron blushed, "We're not _helping_ each other, if that's what you thought."

Harry blushed. "Of course not," he said, but he had. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ he wondered. In a normal course of days, he never would have suspected Ron of…helping, but things were going to be so far from normal from now on that Harry felt he couldn't really be sure of what was going to happen at all.

"Harry…" Ron said, when he and Crabbe walked back into the room. "Look I'm sorry that this is upsetting you, but we're gonna be stuck to these gits for who knows how long. I just thought that we should try and make the best of it. I thought I was being smart, logical, like Hermoine would."

Harry sighed, "No, you're right Ron"

"Not that I think you should try to get on with that slimy git." Ron said, gesturing at Mafloy.

Harry laughed, "I wouldn't worry about that. I'm sorry for snapping at you Ron, I was just freaking out about the uhm, bathroom—stuff."

"Oh my god, this is fucking heartwarming," Malfoy said.

"Shut-up Malfoy" Harry and Ron chorused.

Crabbe grunted, he looked like he couldn't decide whether to hit Ron or to agree with him.

"Look, I will not be abused just because you have bathroom issues Potter. Honestly, your nickname is Potty, it looks like you'd have it under control," Malfoy said.

Harry gritted his teeth, "That is _not_ my nickname. _You_ call me that. You're the _only_ one who does."

Draco laughed. "Oh believe me Potty, I'm not."

"Shut-up Ferret boy," Ron said. "Or I'll bounce you around the Entrance Hall again. I learned the transfiguration special, just for you." He pulled his wand out of his robes.

Harry sighed. "Ron, you'd have to bounce me around too—and if you point that wand at Malfoy while I'm attached to him, I'm gonna hex you myself."

"Oh very nice Potter, threaten your friends when they stick up for you." Crabbe said.

Harry, Draco, and Ron stared at him in astonishment. He rolled his eyes.

"I need to eat," he said to Ron, "Or I'll get cranky-pants."

Malfoy nodded. "That's the truth," he said.

Harry looked at them both with horror.

"What Potter? I'm not allowed to know my friends?"

"Oh that's it, I'm done here." Ron announced, and led Crabbe out of the room.

"Very nice Malfoy, first you get me stuck to you and then you run my friends off with your constant bickering. You're such a girl."

Draco snorted, "Yeah, I'm the girl. Have you had a look at yourself lately?"

"Ugh!" Harry screamed, "Stop it! Why are you such a pain in the ass? Can't you just shut up?"

Draco pouted, "Yeah. I can. But it just so happens that I don't want to."

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked.

Draco's head whipped up to face him. "What?" he asked.

"I asked if you were hungry."

"I have to pee." Draco said.

"Oh." Harry said.

"I'm also dirty."

"No way Malfoy, I draw the line at showering. We're just gonna have to be dirty until this is all over"

"But—do you know a, I don't know, a cleaning charm or something? I can't just be dirty, it's gross."

Harry hung his head. "No, I never bothered. I like showers," he said.

Draco sneered, "I bet you do."

Harry looked at him with disgust, "E-w-h. Malfoy. You know, I bet Madame Pomfrey knows some spells. Sometimes sick people can't take baths."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's actually a good plan," he said. "Lets go see her before breakfast."

"Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully, "Ok. But first, I gotta pee."

* * *


	4. In Shock

* * *

Stupid Potter, Draco thought. If he wasn't attached to the useless git, he could be in a hot shower right now. It wasn't that he particularly minded being dirty. It was just that his hair got so limp, and downright blonde instead of white, when it wasn't washed regularly. Potter was going to ruin his whole image. An image he'd spent his entire school career—hell his life, cultivating.

Stupid Malfoy, Harry thought. He couldn't be content with going one day without a shower. He was probably worried about his sodding hair. Harry's stomach growled ominously, breakfast would be over if they didn't hurry up and get to the Great Hall. They wouldn't have time to eat at all if you factored in the delay the scene they were bound to make was going to cause. Malfoy was such a selfish ass. He hadn't even asked Harry if he was hungry. And he was so infuriatingly pointless. His insults were random, and they didn't make sense. They were…

"What did you mean have I looked at myself lately?" Harry asked.

Draco looked at him blankly.

"In the room," Harry said, "You said that I was the girl, and asked me if I'd looked at myself lately. What did you mean?"

Draco snorted. "Just what I said, Potter. You should really take a look in the mirror."

"I look like a girl?"

Draco sighed, "Not really. You're just too thin, and your hair has gotten long since last year."

Harry tried to look up at his hair, but without much success. "I can't see it," he said, "so it mustn't be that long."

"That's because it's gotten so long that it falls back," Draco scoffed.

"Oh," Harry said, running a hand through his hair to pull it forward. "I guess I should cut it."

"It doesn't look bad. Helps with all the messiness." Draco said.

Harry stared, wide-eyed at Draco. "What did you just say?" he asked.

"I said it's not that bad long. I've been thinking about growing mine out as well. What do you think?"

Harry opened his mouth twice before he was able to get any sound to come out of it. He wanted to ask Draco why the hell he would tell him his hair didn't look bad, but he decided this would be churlish and he honestly wasn't in the mood for another fight with Malfoy when he couldn't get away from him. He decided on a mix of rude and non-committal.

"I think it would make you look like your father," Harry said blandly.

Draco glanced at him sharply, but looked away just as quickly.

"Sorry," Harry said, before he could figure out why he would say it.

Draco scoffed. "I'm sure you're cut up," he said.

"I was there, at his trial." Harry couldn't stop himself. He had no idea why he was telling Malfoy this.

"What?" Draco asked. "Why would you be there? To witness against him?" he asked bitterly.

"No, I went to tell them about his efforts in the final battle. I'm sorry, maybe I could have tried harder to…"

"Don't be ridiculous Potter. My father had no noble intentions that you needed to protect. The only reason he helped you was because he saw that Voldemort would lose."

Harry shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said. "What the tribunal did after the war was…inexcusable."

"Save your high-mindedness for someone who cares Potter."

They were silent the rest of the way to the hospital wing.

* * *

Inside the hospital wing there was quite a commotion. Madame Pomfrey rushed back and forth from her potion stores to the bed of a severely injured man who moaned and thrashed around restlessly; his unseeing eyes locked on the ceiling. Minerva McGonagall stood back, near a window, not looking at the man in the bed but wringing her hands restlessly. Albus Dumbledore stood at the foot of the bed, wand in hand; he looked grave.

"Poppy," he said. "You need only say the word if you need a charm."

"Albus," she answered—like it was the sixth time she'd had to say it. "There's nothing more we can do until Severus' potion starts working."

Severus Snape stood on the opposite Madame Pomfrey. He gazed at the man in the bed with a blank sort of worry that only Snape can master. When he heard his name he glanced over at Dumbledore then back to Pomfrey. He shook his head.

"I don't think it's going to work Poppy. He was inside too long," Snape said.

"Nonsense my boy, we pulled him out when you said we should." Dumbledore answered.

"I'm afraid—I think I may have given him too long to try."

"What do you mean?" McGonagall demanded from across the room.

"Well," Snape answered. "I knew how desperately he wanted to get—to succeed," he said through gritted teeth. "So I was reluctant to pull him back before we knew he had. I may have given him too long. We spoke last night and he was adamant..."

"The wolf is strong." Dumbledore said. "I have every confidence that he will recover this time as he did the last, and the one before. All the same, perhaps you should brew more of the potion Severus"

Snape nodded.

Harry and Draco chose that moment to walk into the room.

"Remus!" Harry shouted in alarm. He ran across the room, dragging a reluctant Draco along behind him.

"Harry," Dumbledore said with some surprise.

Harry ignored him; his eyes were busy taking in the condition of his surrogate godfather. Remus had gashes down his arms that looked as if they almost bisected them. They were surrounded by starbursts of tinier scratches that seemed to cover most of the flesh of his arms. His hands were ripped to shreds; Harry glimpsed some bone. Remus' hair was patchy, and his scalp still oozed blood from where clumps had been pulled out. There were deep fingernail, or _claw?_ Harry thought, gouges running down his chest. His legs were thankfully covered by the bed sheet, but his face—oh heavens—Remus' face. He was recognizable through the windburn and scratches, but just barely. Harry heard Malfoy gag slightly beside him.

"Professor," Harry said. "Professor, what? What? I—"

"Harry, please go wait outside. I'll be out in just a moment and I'll explain everything," Dumbledore said.

Harry continued to stare at the man on the bed in mute horror. Dumbledore looked to Draco desperately but his eyes were likewise transfixed.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, nodding towards the boys. "Would you please…"

Snape nodded curtly and took hold of Harry's upper arm. "Potter," he said. "Come on Potter. Come with me."

Harry looked up at him. He closed his eyes and nodded, but Snape still had to pull him, more than walk him, out of the infirmary.

In the hallway Harry slumped against the wall and would have slid to the ground if Draco hadn't supported him. Snape looked at them both with a lined brow. Draco was pale and had a yellowish tint to his face. Harry was vacant, blind and mute to his surroundings. Draco shook him once.

"Potter," he said. "Potter?"

Snape shook his head at Draco. "Don't, he's in shock. Let's try and get him to the dungeon; I have a potion for it. I need to start a new batch of Remus' anyway."

Draco nodded, but he couldn't drag Harry by himself. Snape threw one of Harry's arms over his shoulder and together they pulled Harry down into Snape's private workshop.

The workshop adjoined his own rooms, and he instructed Draco to take Potter in there and lay him down. As Draco felt rather lightheaded himself, he complied. He levitated Harry slightly, and together they entered Snape's private world of dark-hued fabrics and book-lined walls.

It would be polite, Draco thought, to lay Potter on the couch—but he wasn't about to lie on the floor himself. He pushed open the pretentiously heavy mahogany door in the sitting room, that lead to Snape's bedchamber, and prodded Harry with his wand until he climbed up intothe bed with Draco in tow. They lay side by side; they neither spoke. Draco pulled Snape's heavy green duvet up and covered them. He closed his eyes, but jerked them back open when he found images of Remus behind them. Focusing on the lank blonde hair that fell down over his eyes, he tried not to be sick.


	5. Splat

* * *

If only Potter had let him take a shower, Draco thought restlessly. No, that was petty. But what had happened to the werewolf?

When Snape entered the bedroom he didn't shout, which Draco had half expected. He didn't curse his luck or say something snide about Harry, which Draco had hoped for; if only to preserve the paradigm—but it looked like that was all shot to hell. It seemed that nothing would remain the same after you'd seen a former professor torn to shreds.

The majority of Draco's interactions with his de facto godfather had involved screaming or scolding or general disapproval. There had never been this heavy solemnity that Draco couldn't label. None of them had involved the look Snape wore now. Never had he heard the tone of voice that Snape employed, when he told Draco to lift Potter's head so that he could give him a potion. It wasn't concern, no. It was like that though, only more.

And Potter, he had never seen Potter like this. He thought before today that he'd seen him at his worst. Devastated by death, forth year. Tormented, fifth year. Post battle, dripping in magic and blood and pain. Nothing compared to the lifeless Potter beside him now.

Snape forced the potion into Potter's mouth, using a spell to make him swallow. Then he sat on the end of the bed and watched him. Draco tried not to stare, but he too watched Potter. What they were watching for, he wasn't sure.

I'm hungry, Draco mused, and I have to pee. What could have happened to the werewolf?

"What happened to him?" Draco whispered. Severus cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Mr. Potter is in shock," he said coolly. "He'll come around in a bit."

"No, I mean the—Professor Lupin. What happened to him?"

"It's not my place Draco," Snape said sadly. "Suffice it to say, it was a foolish errand."

"Death Eaters?" Draco asked.

Snape shook his head, got up and left the room. Draco frowned. What the _fuck _happened to the werewolf?

Twenty minutes later Harry groaned.

In half an hour he was sitting up in bed, and Draco was pretending that he didn't know Harry was crying. Two minutes after that, when Draco thought he couldn't stand it any longer, Snape came back.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape said. "Listen to me. Professor Dumbledore is on his way down. He's going to explain everything. You must endeavor to remain calm. Is that clear?"

Harry continued to sob.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked at Snape. When he spoke, his voice was soft and child-like. "Why hadn't they healed him?"

"I'm sorry?" Snape asked.

"Remus," Harry said. "Why hadn't they healed any of the—wounds? They were just standing around watching him."

"You can't heal the dead, Mr. Potter. The potion I—"

Harry's submissive demeanor dropped away in an instant. His cheeks went red and cold sweat formed on his brow. "He was not dead!" he shrieked hysterically. "I saw him moving!"

"Harry," Snape began, but Harry was shaking his head from side to side, screaming.

"He was not dead! He was _not_ dead! _He_ was not dead! He was not _dead_!

"Severus!" Dumbledore bellowed from the doorway. "What have you done?"

An hour, and a few calming potions later, Draco found himself inside a privacy bubble. He and Harry sat on Snape's couch, facing the headmaster. Whatever Dumbledore was saying to Harry, Draco was being denied. All that he'd heard before Harry had gestured at him and asked Dumbledore not to speak in front of him—which was bloody rude Draco thought—was that Lupin had come 'round and Madame Pomfrey was healing him up. He apparently was going to be fine. Which Draco thought should have perked Potter right up, but whatever Dumbledore was saying was making Potter pale. Draco had the insane urge to yell at him for upsetting Potter again, just when things had started to look ok.

Finally, after what felt like an hour to Draco, Harry hung his head and Dumbledore got up to leave. Dumbledore freed Draco from his silence, and gave him a look that asked so many things of him. Things that Draco was positive Dumbledore should be entrusting to someone else. Or at least to someone who knew what the bloody fuck was going on.

After Dumbledore left Snape came in to tell him to get Potter to bed. Draco nodded, and pulled Harry up by the arm. He guided him out of Snape's rooms and closed the door behind them. There was peace in this hallway. It was a part of the dungeons that was not wholly underground, and there were windows in the cliff side that allowed a view of the lake. It was raining. Of course it was raining, Draco thought, it always rains when there's bad news. Harry led them over to a window and Draco followed, unwilling to prevent Harry from walking of his own free will. He was getting tired of dragging the sod around. Harry stared for a moment; he seemed to be remembering something. And with seemingly no provocation, he began trying to run down the hall. Draco did his best to keep up but it was awkward. Still, they were out of the castle and headed for the quidditch pitch before he could even process what Potter might be doing.

Not being known to be the fittest Malfoy in history, Draco was exhausted. Just shy of the entrance to the pitch he dug in his heels and refused to go another step. They landed on their asses in a giant puddle. Clumps of grassy mud shot into the air and plopped down onto their hair and clothes. Harry screamed in frustration.

"Malfoy, you fucking bastard. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Stopping," Draco answered primly.

Harry glanced down at the mud that covered the both of them, at the two inches of water that they sat in. "I see that," he said.

Draco nodded.

Harry sighed. "Why did we stop?" he asked.

Draco marveled at his patience. "Because I didn't want to run any further," he said.

A tiny smirk began to form on Potter's face. "You mean you couldn't," he said.

"Don't be ridiculous Potter. I'm not a fat arse or anything. I could have fun for hours longer."

"Right," Harry said.

"Shut-up you prat. Why were we running anyway? Where the hell were you going? Planning to ride your broom into the wild blue yonder? Drop yourself from 100 feet into the lake?"

Harry's expression darkened. "I just wanted to have a fly over the lake," he said.

"What in God's name for?" Draco asked. He was exasperated. "And in case you haven't noticed," he said, pointedly pulling away from Harry as far as he could, "_We're_ in no shape to have a fly."

"It's what I did on Buckbeak. Sirius escaped on Buckbeak. It reminded me of him."

What the hell, Draco thought, had any of that made sense? He was wary of prodding someone as insane as Potter into even further dementia, but he risked a small stab. "Buckbeak?" he asked.

"The hippogriff you tried to have murdered."

"Oh…"

"And I just forgot you were there," Harry said.

"Thanks a lot," Draco said. "I wish I could forget about you so easily."

"Sorry," Harry said again. Noting to himself that it was the second time in the same day he'd apologized to Malfoy. Something was definitely off.

"So what has you all riled up Potter? I heard Dumbledore say that the werewolf was going to be fine. What did Snape mean he was dead?"

Harry took a deep breath. He looked over at Malfoy. He didn't look like he was gathering information to torture Harry with but Harry thought, rightly, you could never tell with a Malfoy. "Can we get out of our puddle?" Harry asked.

Draco grimaced, he nodded. They only slipped and fell back into the puddle once before they succeeded. Making their way onto the pitch, they took shelter under the stands.

"Well?" Malfoy said. "I think I have the right to know why I was nearly murdered. It was really rude of you to have me put in a bubble. I'd seen the carnage too. Who am I going to tell? It's not as if I could get away from you to spread gossip. Honestly Potter for a Gryffindor you're so mistrusting."

"I learn my lessons well," Harry said. "But maybe not well enough. Remus was dead, because he had been behind the veil. He was trying to fetch my godfather out." Seeing Draco's confused look, Harry explained, "Bellatrix knocked Sirius into it in the ministry during my fifth year."

There were words for this occasion; as a well-bred person, Draco was sure that there were, but he couldn't think of them. "Oh," he said.

"It was his last chance," Harry continued. "There are limitations on these things. If he tries again then he can't come back. Even Snape wouldn't be able to bring him back."

This, Draco was sure, was an occasion that there weren't words for, and never would be. He sighed.

"So all this is over your godfather?" he asked. He continued, as gently as he'd ever said anything to Potter before in his life. "It's been over a year Potter, you must have known that your godfather was gone for good. No one has ever been successfully brought back from behind the veil. There are all sorts of consequences, which I can't believe Professor Lupin was willing to face. There's—"

"Don't be daft Malfoy," Harry cut him off. "I know Sirius is gone. I'm worried I'm going to lose Remus; he's all I have left."

"But Dumbledore said he was fine, and you said he can't try again."

"I said, that if he tries again he's gone forever. He might…" Harry trailed off.

Draco sighed. "Get up off your ass Potter. I'm cold, hungry, and—"

"And you have to pee, I know. So do I." Harry smiled.

"Smile away Potter, but look at me. Can you guess what else I'm going to make you do?"

"No Malfoy! Absolutely not. I will not do it."

"You will."

"Says who?"

"Says _me_."

* * *


	6. Showers of Truce

A/N: Remus is fine! In fact, he's _magically_ all better.

* * *

Really, Draco thought, was there anything more awkward than trying to walk quickly when you're wearing soaked robes and you have someone attached to your ass? He'd voiced something on that subject to Potter and Potter had said, "Yeah, there's having to pee at the same time, and I'm not attached to your ass Malfoy I'm attached to your hip!" Ugh, Potter was a barbarian, yelling in his ear like that. Also, mud was excessively nasty. He'd caught a glimpse of a muggle sport called Rubgy or Rugbay or something like that once, and the men were absolutely covered in mud and falling all over each other. He'd wondered then what the appeal could possibly be, and now he could categorically say that there was no appeal to it whatsoever. Falling around in the mud with Potter had been wretched, and cold, and dirty, and stupid. He couldn't imagine that doing it with a ball would be any more entertaining. Pushing Potter into a puddle, provided he was not himself attached to said git at the time, that sounded _much_ more entertaining. In fact, if he could just throw a ball at him and have him fall in the mud, all the better. The closer they got to the castle, the more Potter's little melodrama earlier was infuriating Draco.

Attached to his ass indeed! Harry thought. As if I would have let myself live if I'd ended up attached to his ass. Exactly! I would have chopped myself off or, failing that, Avada'd myself before I'd walked _anywhere_ attached to Malfoy ass. On the way into the castle they'd walked by Cho Chang and she'd given him the strangest look, which to him seemed to say "you look like you're enjoying being attached to Malfoy's ass" to which he had replied "Sod off!" but had unfortunately had said it out loud so Cho would probably never speak to him again. Which was most likely best as she was excruciatingly awful, but still he chose to blame Malfoy for ruining his chances with her. Ass! Who accused another guy of being attached to their ass? It was just _wrong_ of him to imply such a thing.

"Oh god, Potter, you have _got_ to stop mumbling to yourself," Draco said. "And no, it's not _wrong_ to be gay. I'm gay. I know you filthy muggle types are uptight about that but you should understand that things are different where you live now. Don't you pay attention at all? Did you think Cornelius Fudge was married to a _woman_ named Charles? Honestly."

"I didn't think about it. And I didn't mean it was wrong to be gay! I just meant that you shouldn't imply those things."

"If you say so Potter. Homophobe."

"I am not! I—I know lots of gay people," Harry said.

"Oh really? Name one!" Draco said.

"Remus. Sirius."

"Oh." Draco glanced over at Harry's profile. His eyes were squinted in the sun, his lips pulled tight over his teeth. "Oh," he said again. "I see."

* * *

They were quiet until they reached their room. Inside they found Ron and Crabbe sitting on a couch, the coffee table pulled up close so they could pour over the same book. Ron immediately jumped up, pulling Crabbe after him. Harry said a polite hello to Crabbe as Ron barreled into him; he seemed to want to hug the life out of Harry. Ron had been prone to these bursts of affection since the end of the war.

"Remus came by. He was looking for you. He told me the whole story. I'm so sorry Harry. I wish…well I wish Hermoine was here. I'm sure she would have thought of something. I'm sorry I'm not so smart as she was. I'm useless."

Crabbe and Draco shared an uncomfortable glance. They had honestly never been as close to each other as the embrace of the two friends was forcing them to be. They had also never witnessed quite so wussy a spill of emotions as Ron had just let go. It was, in a word, horrid.

"It's all right Ron. We've talked about this. I know Sirius is gone. It's ok. How was Remus, did he look—well, did he look…"

"Suicidal?" supplied Draco.

Harry shot him a glare.

Ron looked puzzled. "Uhm, no," he said, "but he seemed very worried about you. Snape saw you two running hell for leather."

"Hell for leather?" Malfoy asked.

"Oh shut-up Draco. You're interfering. What's the matter with you?" Crabbe said.

Draco was taken aback. What was the matter with him? He didn't care about Weasley and Potter's talk. He stared at Crabbe. Crabbe raised one bushy eyebrow.

Draco smirked. He threw his arms around Crabbe and wailed. "Oh Vin! I'm so sorry Vin. I don't know what's been wrong with me lately. It's just that I've had this big boil on my ass and I can't seem to get rid of it. It's awful Vin. I'm soo sorry. I wish Greg were here, he'd know what to do. Oh heavens!"

Crabbe threw his arm around Malfoy as well, just to give himself some support during his giggle fit.

Draco risked a peek at Potter and Weasley; they were staring at the two of them in stupefaction. Then it happened, a tiny crease formed at the corner of Weasley's right eye. It was followed by an even more miniscule upturn of his right upper lip. A move that distorted his freckles interestingly, Draco noted. The first glimpse of his white teeth shocked Draco, but no more than the light chuckle and hearty laugh that followed. And then, wonder of all wonders—Weasley leaned around Crabbe and nonchalantly kissed Malfoy on the nose. Crabbe guffawed, Harry let out a high-pitched girlish giggle, and Malfoy turned redder than any Weasley hair he'd ever seen. He abruptly disengaged himself and Harry from the group hug-fest.

"We have to take a shower. We're disgusting. Fell in puddle," he barked out.

Harry cackled uncontrollably while Malfoy collected robes and clothes for the both of them.

The mood turned somber again in the bathroom. Harry _really_ did not want to do this. He glanced around nervously and broodily.

"Malfoy," Harry said, "can't we just wash up in the sinks or something. You know, with the silencing charm and the sheet?"

"Potteeeerrrrr," Draco whined. "I'm really really dirty, and my hair is all blonde and grossss. Is this because I'm gay? I promise not to look at your ass if you let me shower. Promise!"

"No! It's not that. I just don't get why you want to get in the shower so much." Harry's legs started to shake.

"Didn't I just say? Have you gone mental?"

Think of other things, Harry told himself. Don't think about your body. Think about something else, the war, or the Dursley's, or anything that they said to you. Think about…anything.

"Ok," Harry said. "Ok we need a shower. You're right."

Draco smiled. "Of course I'm right," he said.

Harry started to unbutton his shirt but his hands shook so badly that he couldn't do it. He couldn't even get the clasp of his wet cloak undone. He looked down. His hands were red. They were so red. Was he blushing all over his body like that? Or was it some perverse thing about him that made him only blush where Malfoy would be sure to see it? Harry gritted his teeth. He could control this. He'd done it before. It was _not_ a problem. He needed a shower, Malfoy needed a shower, Malfoy wanted a shower, and he was not going to let _his_ problems get in the way of something as simple as that. He glared at his hands. A very white hand moved over them, and pressed them gently. Harry looked up at Malfoy, and was surprised to see concern on the Slytherin's face.

"Potter," he said. "Potter if it upsets you that much we don't have to do this. I didn't know it was such a big deal. It's ok if you can't—" Malfoy recoiled from himself. He didn't even know what he was saying. He was offering comfort to his enemy as easily as he would to his oldest friend. This connection of theirs was getting to his brain.

Harry scoffed at himself. He really was being melodramatic today if Malfoy had sunk to comforting him. First his whole leap into the rain, and now he couldn't even undress himself. He'd be a bed-wetter soon, and he was sure Malfoy wouldn't be as forgiving about that as it looked like he was prepared to be about the shower. Snap out of it, he told himself. Tell Malfoy the truth; you might as well. After all, Malfoy had been there. He'd seen the war. He'd know.

"It's nothing Malfoy," he said. "It's just that I have scars. They make me—you know, self-conscious." There, he thought. That was a daring brush at open-ness with the ferret-faced git. He braced himself for the backlash.

"My father is gay you know." Malfoy said.

Harry gaped. "What Malfoy?" he asked.

"My father, he's gay. Flaming really. Since his trial he's been sitting around the house all day with a muggle computer and looking up boy-porn."

"Uhm, Ok." Harry said.

"My mother won't shave her underarms, and in the summer she wears these strapless gowns and I'm terrified that some event is going to require her to lift her arms above her head and everyone will see."

"Uh," Harry stammered.

"Sometimes, I wear the same underwear three days in a row because they're my favorite Bananas in Pajamas ones where their staircase really moves."

"Right," Harry nodded. He thought it best not to disturb the loony.

"In second year I had an enormous crush on Oliver Wood, and I wrote really crass poems about his 'wood' and sent them to him. Except, I signed your name."

"What!" Harry screamed.

Draco winced, "Sorry about that."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "That's ok," he said, then smirked. "That one worked out for me."

Draco's eyes grew wide. "Really?" he asked in fascination.

Harry turned away. He was afraid the smile would split his face but he wasn't willing to giggle at Draco's expense right now. His eyes landed on the pile of clothes.

"Malfoy," he said, "Did you rifle through my underwear?"

"Well you had to have underwear to put on and you were too busy laughing at me to get your clothes together, and I had to get out of there before Weasley made more fun of me."

"I wasn't really laughing at you…I don't think Ron meant to make fun of you. He was just being—well, the new him. He's been, er, affectionate since…"

"Yeah, I know, but I felt mocked." Draco whined.

"Well in his defense you were mocking h—" Harry broke off, his eye caught on something else in the pile. "You really have Bananas in Pajamas on your underwear?"

Draco grinned. "Would I lie to you?" he said.

Harry scoffed.

* * *

They had been getting better at their three-legged walking, but naked three-legged walking was an entirely different matter. Harry had determinedly not looked when Malfoy had undressed. He didn't even know why he had any urge to look at _all_. It must be because Malfoy had said he was gay, and so naturally Harry was curious to see what other guys would see in him. Right?

Oh god, Draco thought, what had happened to Potter? Ok sure he'd planned, and promised, not to look when Harry got undressed, but that cryptic comment about scars had intrigued him. The Daily Prophet hadn't reported any injuries that could have caused these scars. They were strange, like a crop circle almost, and centered over his heart. Shit, Potter saw him looking.

Harry sighed, "They're an ancient protection charm. Ritual scarring."

Again, Draco had the insane urge to share. "I uhm, I got this," he said, pointing to a thick burn scar on his stomach, "during the battle of Knockturn Alley."

Harry frowned. "That looks like it hurt," he said.

"It did. Yours too."

"It did," Harry said.

"Listen Potter," Draco said suddenly, "these awkward silences are starting to get to me. We're attached to each other, and Weasley was right. We've no idea how long it's going to be. I think we should just—" Oh god, Draco thought, what am I saying? "I think we should just try to be real friends. I'm not against it, unless you are. Are you?" Holy hell, he'd actually just babbled out an offer of friendship to Potter. You would think he'd have learned his lesson in that by now. Still, he couldn't leave well enough alone. "I mean we're naked in the bathroom with each other, sharing scar stories. We must almost be friends already," he said hopefully. Though why he was hopeful, he couldn't say.

Harry knew that he was being silent for way too long, that such an open offer from Malfoy was bound to be short-lived if he didn't speak up soon. But it had struck him, that since the war he hadn't anything like hated Malfoy, he'd just been annoyed by his continuing malice toward himself. From Harry's determined stare at Malfoy's face (he would _not_ look anywhere else, he would _not_) he could see that he was becoming impatient for an answer. He was getting pissed, or no, not pissed. Hurt? Remorseful?

"Can we just get this shower over with?" Malfoy asked. "I'm starting to be uncomfortable with 'naked time'."

"Wait, Malfoy," Harry said. "I mean, yeah. I think—I would like us to be friends. Argh!" Harry screamed, mostly at himself. "I _know_ that I would like to be friends with you Malfoy."

"Harry, mate, are you ok in there?" Ron asked.

Harry tried to repress, he really did, but he burst into giggles.

"Uh, I guess so…" Ron said. There was a short silence, then Ron and Crabbe could be heard to guffaw over something.

Harry blushed, and so did Draco.

"Fabulous Potter, now they think we were—"

"I know very well what they think we were doing!" Harry screeched.

Draco laughed. "What?" he asked, "Were we bumping uglies?"

Harry made a face.

"Were we shootin' the moon? Gettin' Groiny?" Draco said.

Harry snorted. "Groiny, Malfoy? Have you been watching TV?"

"What?" he said. "No of course not." He growled at himself mentally. "I mean, yeah. I have. The ministry put me up at a muggle hotel once and I spent a week watching it. It's amazing."

"So you watched…Buffy?"

Malfoy's grin got huge. "Yeah! That show is fabulous! I love it."

Harry grinned. "Me too. I like Xander."

Draco snorted. "Of course you do," he said. "I like Spike."

"Gross Malfoy. In love with your own image, much?"

"What? Oh, No… I just meant—his character, I like…"

Harry was giggling madly. Draco cuffed him on the shoulder. Harry became hyper-aware of his continuing nakedness.

"Uhm, maybe we should get in the shower now," he said.

Draco's face was bright red. "Yeah, we should."

As the water poured over him, Harry tried not to think about what he _normally_ did in the shower. Draco had been sort of right about that. But when you lived in a room with so many other boys… No! Harry thought, I will _not_ think about that. I'll think about anything else. I won't stare. I won't even look. But Malfoy was so pale. That is, except for his scars. The one he'd shown Harry on his stomach was still the bright red of a magical burn scar. There were other scars though, lightly raised mounds of flesh that left Harry wondering if they were from the war or something else entirely. On the curve of Draco's neck, in the hollow just behind his ear, there was a star-shaped scar. It was so hopelessly out of place that once Harry had spotted it, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Draco glanced at him nervously, then turned his head slightly so that the scar was hidden from view.

"Are you, uh, still worried about Professor Lupin?" Draco asked him, as he shampooed his hair.

Harry jerked back into himself and picked up the soap as he answered. "Yeah. He and Siri were inseparable apparently. In school and then, after he escaped. For so long Remus thought that Sirius was the one that had betrayed Mum and Dad. They really didn't have much actual time together. Three years maybe, all told."

"I'm sure your werewolf won't throw himself into the veil Potter. He wouldn't, when he knows that you need him."

Harry nodded. What Malfoy said was probably true, but he couldn't help but wonder about his connections. There wasn't a person that he'd been truly connected to that hadn't died. True Hermoine wasn't dead, but her magical stasis was indefinite. She was probably the only witch in the world that could have figured out what would bring her out of it, Harry thought bitterly. The Dursleys, his only blood-kin, had been killed during the war when the order member who was assigned to guard them betrayed them to Voldemort. Harry had killed the informant himself. The righteous fury he had felt on behalf of his relatives had surprised even him. His parents had died for him. Sirius had died to try and protect him, and now Remus had "died" three times to try and fix the mistake he'd made with Sirius. He might as well face it, Harry thought, he was a disease. If he lost Remus he would be left without connections in the world, both magical and muggle. The only ones he really had left, besides Remus, were his affectionate but increasingly distant friendship with Ron, and this new physical connection to Malfoy.

That thought almost made Harry snicker. A few years ago if he'd been connected to Malfoy in _any_ manner, not to mention physically, he would have screamed his head off and thrown a tantrum. But now, this fresh friendship with Malfoy seemed like everything he needed. He had been lonely. Ron was grieving for Hermoine, and Harry didn't fit into that side of his life. Harry understood, but it was hard. So much of his life had been spent without any human connection, without any affection. He had gained some, but lost them so quickly that it felt like they had never been there at all.

This train of thought was bad, Harry decided. It made him start to wonder about Malfoy, and about the connection they had established. He hadn't even looked at where they were joined. He could feel it, but he couldn't bring himself to see it. Now though, that he thought of it, he desperately wanted to _see_ it, the tangible proof that he wasn't likely to be alone any time soon. Sighing, he let himself look.

They'd been in their clothes, robes and trousers and shirts, when the accident had happened but there was no evidence of clothing trapped between them. There was a smooth jointure of hip to hip, the union of Harry's palest skin to Draco's palest. There wasn't even a line where the two met; there was no telling him from Draco at all. Harry reached down, he ran his finger along the flat surface, looking for a line or a scar or a bump of some kind to tell him where he ended and Malfoy began. But there was nothing. He continued to trace the middle ground, then flattened his hand and smoothed it over the whole surface of their hips. It was amazing, flawless. He heard Draco gasp. When he looked up Draco's eyes were wide with fear and embarrassment. He was flushed bright red and his breath came in quick puffs that flung the drops of water away from his mouth as they ran over his body.

"Harry please stop," he gasped.

"Oh god Malfoy I'm sorry." Harry was almost paralyzed with embarrassment. Almost. He jerked his hand away from their hips. "I just wanted to see if—I wanted to see if there was a separation."

Malfoy nodded, he wouldn't look at Harry or speak. They finished their shower quickly and hurriedly got out to dry off. A single thought stopped Harry in his tracks.

"Malfoy," he said. "How're we going to get our clothes on? We can't put our trousers on, we can't even put our underwear on, we don't…"

"Our other clothes, were they messed up?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, picking up his dirty trousers. "Hey! They're not messed up at all!" he said, showing Draco intact waistband.

"Weird." Draco said.

"Uhm, yeah."

"So do you think there's just space between there?"

"I dunno, should we try to—put our—on?"

Both boys tentatively pulled up their underwear. When the waistband reached the area they were supposed to be joined, it just disappeared.

"Too fucking odd. We have to show Ron!"

"Potter, No!" Draco said, but he was too late. Harry grabbed his trousers and pulled Draco with him. A quick snatch scored Draco a towel on the way out of the bathroom.

"Ron!" Harry screamed

"What? You two finally done in there?" Ron grinned smarmily.

"Look!" Harry said, pulling up his trousers to show Ron the way that the side disappeared.

"Whoa!" Ron said. "We should go tell Snape! This might help him with the antidote."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm starved though. I think Draco and I will head to the kitchens. You two want?"

Ron looked at Harry curiously. "Yeah," he said. "I guess Crabbe and I will go tell Snape while you're doing that."

"Great." Harry said. He glanced over at Malfoy, who was holding the towel up lengthwise, trying to cover as much of his body as he could. Ron noticed as well; he grinned wickedly and whistled at Draco, who pulled the towel up to cover his face.

"Oh god Malfoy," Harry said, poorly covering his chuckle. "I'm sooo sorry."

They ducked back into the bathroom.

Crabbe looked at Ron and raised an eyebrow. Ron giggled, and pulled Crabbe towards the door.


	7. Truce Redeux

* * *

Draco glanced over at Harry as they walked towards the kitchens. Sure, he was hungry, but he was unsure why Harry was so adamant that they not go to Snape before they got some food. For that matter, why didn't they just ask that Dobby for food again; why did they have to come to the kitchen at all? Harry's face was strangely blank.

"Is there something wrong, Harry?" Draco asked.

"What? No. Nothing's wrong with me. Why?"

"It's just, you didn't want to go and see Snape. I'd think you'd be eager to get us separated, I know I am. We could eat anytime."

Harry grimaced inwardly. Draco wanted to be rid of him as soon as possible. The flimsy pact of friendship they'd made in the bathroom would dissolve, and they'd go back to the hatred that they knew best; Harry was sure of it. Their truce only covered interaction while they were connected. He didn't know who he was trying to fool, Draco hated him; he always would.

"There's nothing wrong with me Malfoy," he said carefully. "I'm just hungry as hell. We haven't eaten all day."

Draco winced inwardly. It was Malfoy was it? Well that was fine. He knew Potter was incapable of really having a truce with him. Now that there was some prospect of getting rid of him Harry was reverting to the comfortable hatred they had cultivated the past six years. Yes. It would be fine. He didn't want anything to do with Potter anyway. He was stupid to think that Harry would want to remain friends outside of the bonds of this connection. Only, he had kind of hoped they would. Vin and Greg were great, but they kept to themselves; they weren't really his friends. Pansy was gone, she'd attended Beauxbatons during the war because it was safer, but she had never come back to him. It had been crushing. They had been friends all of their life, and she hadn't loved him enough to come back to him. Draco cursed himself. He knew perfectly well that he was dwelling and that he was taking things far too personally, but it didn't really make a difference in the way it felt.

At Beauxbatons Pansy had made a whole new group of friends, and forgotten whatever bond they had. Draco couldn't blame her, not more than a little, because he realized they weren't as close as they could have been. How was he supposed to know how to show her what she meant to him? He hadn't had any point of reference. All the same, she was all he had. Well if Potter wanted nothing to do with him, then he would just seek out friendship with some other person. He was capable of doing that, wasn't he? It wasn't as if he was a social leper. Maybe he would try to find a boyfriend. He hadn't really dated since the war, but it didn't seem like he was entirely unattractive. Weasley didn't seem to mind hitting on him, scars and all. Absentmindedly Draco rubbed the scar on his cheek, and his hand smoothed across his face and fell to rubbing the one behind his ear.

Harry looked over nervously, for some reason Draco was petting himself. Harry thought that he looked really put out, and he tried to figure out what would have made Draco mad. What had he said? Nothing really, just that he was hungry. Most likely Malfoy was just annoyed that he didn't want to go right away to get them separated. It was a weakness, but as fleeting as he knew this connection was—Harry wasn't willing to rush towards the finish line.

"It's not as if Snape could get us apart right away you know," Harry said. "He'll need some time to make the new potion."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Yeah," I know that."

"Well then I don't see what the big deal is about getting some food. First Ron looks at me weird then you. I thought you'd understand. I mean we haven't had food all day. I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry? I mean if you're not hungry then we don't have to go and get food, we can go and talk to Snape."

"Jesus Potter, take a breath would you?" Draco said.

Harry sighed.

Draco grinned. "That's more like it," he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you want to get food or not?"

"I don't think that's even what you were asking me," Draco said thoughtfully.

"What? You're mental Malfoy."

"No, I don't think I am. You were going on and on about whether I was hungry and wanted _food_ and if I didn't want _food_ then we could just hurry along to Snape. I think you're worried about getting separated from me."

Harry scoffed. "Don't be fucking ridiculous, Malfoy. I couldn't be happier that I'll be rid of you soon."

Draco frowned. Ok, so that hurt. He gave in to the urge to hurt Harry back. He smacked him in the back of the head as hard as he could. Unfortunately when Harry flew forward Draco went with him, and their combined momentum sent them sprawling onto the floor of the corridor outside the kitchens.

"Malfoy! Why the fuck did you hit me?"

"Because you're a fucking bastard."

"I'm a bastard? You're the one that can't wait to be rid of me. You're the one being _you_ again right after you said you wanted to be friends with me."

Draco hit him again.

"Ow!" Harry said. "What was that for?"

Draco's face was red. "I can't be _me_ and still be friends with you?" he asked.

Harry frowned, had he really said that? That was awful. "I didn't mean that," he said. "I meant that you were being mean to me again, not that you were being yourself. I don't think you're really like that."

"Yes. I. Am!" Draco was practically shouting. "I am mean, I am rude, I am sarcastic, I am a bastard. I LIKE ME."

"Draco, shhhh," Harry said, "someone's going to hear you."

"I don't give a bloody fuck. You know what Harry Potter," Draco sneered, "if you can't like me the way that I am then I don't want to be friends with you either. So you can have your wish, and we'll just get apart as soon as possible and go back to hating each other."

Harry hit Draco.

"You stupid bastard! Why did you hit me?" Draco said.

Draco lunged at Harry (as best he could) and they spent some time rolling around on the floor pulling hair and biting any exposed flesh they could. Harry got one good punch to Draco's kidney in and Draco screamed in pain, then he started crying.

"Oh my God. Draco I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you so hard," he said, pulling Draco into his arms, resting his head on his shoulder.

Draco leaned into the hug. "You didn't you stupid git, I just—you're not the only one that still has problems from the war," he said.

"I'm so sorry."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. Do you have any idea how often you say it? It doesn't mean anything at all to you. Get off of me Potter." Draco shoved Harry roughly and tried to stand up but Harry continued to sit, so they couldn't. "Get up!" Draco screamed in his frenzy. "Get up!"

"No," Harry said stubbornly.

"I will kick you, you stupid git." Draco said.

"Fine. Kick me. You hate me. I want you to kick me, it would be better than the fake friendship thing you were doing earlier. That's just cruel Malfoy. Why did you bother? Is it that fun to torture me?"

"Me!" Draco said. "You're the one that's so eager to break off our truce."

"You're so stupid, Malfoy. Why did you think I didn't want to go to Snape? I don't want you to leave me, and I know that as soon as we're apart you'll hate me again. Why be so fake? If you're going to hate me, just hate me; don't toy with me."

"Fuck you Harry. You don't know anything about me. Did I say that I wanted to be rid of you?"

"You said you were eager to get us separated."

Draco looked confused. "Yeah," he said, "Because I don't relish having my ass stuck to some git. Not because I didn't want to be friends with you, or because I hate you."

"But," Harry said, "the only reason we were going to be friends is because we were stuck together."

"You twit," Draco said, rubbing his temples. "You have to make everything so difficult. Let's try this truce again, shall we? Harry, I would like to be friends with you, no matter what happens with our—predicament."

Harry sulked. "I'm not a twit," he said.

Draco smiled. "A prat then."

Harry shook his head.

"A gormy relish-eater."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Relish?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "I hate the stuff."

Harry nodded, and they struggled to their feet. "I'm—" Harry started. He had been about to say sorry, but the look of murder on Draco's face made him stop. "I'm a relish-eater," he finally said.

Draco nodded and smiled happily. "I'm glad we finally see eye-to-eye Potter, but you never answered my implied question."

"Which was?" Harry baited.

Draco pinched him.

"Ow! Ow! Ok, ok, I want to be friends with you Malfoy," he giggled.

Draco looked satisfied, and they walked towards the painting of the bowl of fruit.

"Draco wait a minute," Harry said, stopping. "I really mean this. Please don't leave me."

Draco was tempted to mock Harry for his melodrama, but the truth was that he deathly feared the same thing, so he nodded. "Don't abandon me, Harry," he demanded in return.

They shared a look of understanding and peace. "I wouldn't dare," Harry said.

"Damn right." Draco said. Not looking, he reached forward to tickle the pear, but got a shock when his finger connected with cloth and beneath that cloth, a human stomach. A male stomach. He gasped.

"Remus!" Harry said.

Draco was jostled around, and watched resignedly as Remus and Harry embraced. The werewolf had shaved his head, Draco noticed. It didn't look bad on him, but you could still see the smoother spots where his hair had been pulled out. Other than that though, he looked in the peak of health. For that matter, far healthier than Draco had ever seen the haggard man look before.

Ugh, they were sill hugging. What was it with Potter and all this embarrassing cuddling? It made Draco incredibly uncomfortable. He just wasn't a physically affectionate person, that was all. It wasn't as if he'd made any sort of choice, it was just how things were. That fake hug with Vin this morning had been the first time he'd touched his friends since the war. Before the war, they had shook hands, or had rare brushes accidentally, but they just _didn't_ do this—display. Gryffindors were such pansies, he thought disgustedly.

God finally, the werewolf had let Potter go. Draco had begun to think that they were going to become stuck together as well. Then Remus turned to Draco. Oh no! he thought, a second before he too was enfolded in a tight hug. Reluctantly Draco threw his arms around Remus as well. He might as well enjoy it if it was going to happen, and honestly it wasn't that bad. Harry's new godfather was very fit, firm in all kinds of nice places. He was a good hugger too; he put his whole body into it. He smelled so good—like the woods and fresh air which was fitting, but struck Draco as really amusing. It was the same smell that his pet dog at home always had when it came in from outside on a cold day. Draco tightened his arms and leaned into the hug a bit more; it was becoming a bit excessively long, but he didn't care that much.

Harry cleared his throat. Draco was minutes from humping Remus, he was almost sure. He had just seen the blonde burrow his nose into Remus' shoulder, and he had a vacant smile on his face that smacked eerily of pleasure. It was extremely uncomfortable to watch, not to mention be only a foot or so from.

Remus finally pulled back. He put one hand of each of the boys' shoulders and smiled at them. "What were you two doing out after curfew, and coming into the kitchens?" he asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

"It's nothing like that," Harry said. "We were just hungry. We haven't, uh, eaten today."

Remus immediately looked concerned. "Not at all?"

They both shook their heads. He quickly ushered them into the kitchen. On a big wooden table at one side of the room there was a huge assortment of meats and cheeses and various leftovers laying around. The boys looked at Remus curiously.

"I was uhm, a little hungry," he said with a smile.

* * *

When they got to the door of Snape's private quarters, Ron looked at Crabbe nervously. "You knock mate, I don't like my chances of a good reception."

Crabbe shook his head. "No way," he said. "He hates me."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Like he hates me less?"

"Dunno, but I'm not willing to risk it."

"Well I'm not either," Ron said.

Crabbe nodded, like he thought that was a good idea.

"What're we going to do then?" Ron asked.

"Maybe we should go back. We could make Harry and Draco come back later and tell him."

Ron smiled slightly, that sounded like a good idea. But, he couldn't do that to Harry. It seemed like he was having a hard enough time adjusting to life with Draco. Ron didn't want to put him through the added torture of having to deal with an irate, sleepy, Snape. No matter how sympathetic he was to their plight, Ron doubted he would be pleased to see them out after curfew.

"No mate," Ron said finally. "I think we have to do this."

Crabbe looked displeased. "Fine, but you're knocking."

"Why?" Ron whined.

"Because I'm not going to do it, that's why."

"Would you two blathering idiots kindly shut-up!" they heard Snape scream from the other side of the door. "I'm coming, and when I get there you had better have something severely important that you want," he threatened.

Ron gulped. Crabbe shook his head in dismay.

* * *

Remus had loaded Harry and Draco up with food and sent them back to their own rooms to eat it. Harry hadn't had a chance to speak to Remus about his trip to the veil, but his upbeat mood had relieved Harry greatly. There had been a couple of understanding and sad looks, but nothing like the dismal depression that Harry imagined would be required to commit suicide. He was hopeful that things might actually turn out ok for him and Remus in the future. He had even offered Harry and Draco the opportunity to stay with him at Grimmauld Place over Christmas break, that is, if they weren't separated. Harry was extremely grateful, though he knew he had no intention of ever entering that house again. Draco had looked gobsmacked.

Back in their room they dumped all the food onto the coffee table and pulled it close to their love seat. They spent a few minutes eating as much as they could shove into their mouths and swilling pumpkin juice by the pint, before they sat back in unison. They glanced at each other and laughed. Harry was struck with a surreal sort of peace.

"So what do you want to do before bed?" Harry asked.

Draco's lips twitched in a smile. He was tempted to say something off-color, but he wasn't comfortable enough with Harry to know how it would be taken. He wasn't willing to risk a rift over his homosexuality just yet. No matter what he had told Harry earlier about wizarding society being fine with it, it was still a person-to-person issue—much as it was in the muggle world.

"I was thinking about doing some reading," Draco said.

"But tomorrow's Saturday," Harry whined.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not for class you dumbass."

"Oh," Harry said. "What're you reading?"

Uncomfortably, Draco looked away from Harry. "It's nothing," he said, "just a novel."

"Just a novel? I love stories," Harry said. "Which is it?"

Draco sighed. He motioned for Harry to get up and follow him over to his trunk. When they were there he rummaged through it and came up with a paperback muggle novel.

Harry smiled. "Pride and Prejudice?" he said, delighted. "I love this book."

Draco looked surprised, pleasantly.

"You know, Austen wouldn't be pleased with your 'Just a novel' comment," Harry said.

Draco scowled at him.

Harry smiled. "Do you want to read it together?" he asked.

Draco felt a strange warm flush overtake him. "Uh," he said bemusedly, "yeah."

Harry took the book from his hand, briefly making contact with Draco's fingers. Draco felt the melty warmth again. At that moment he realized what was going on, why he was so reluctant to be separated from Harry, why he felt so good about their future friendship, why he was putting up with Harry's irritating thickness. He was forming a crush on Potter. He groaned.

"Did I hurt you again?" Harry asked.

"Yeah." Draco said bitterly. "Don't worry about it."

Harry wrinkled his brow, but decided to let it go. They walked back over to the couch, and Harry started to read from the spot where Elizabeth was visiting Charlotte at Hunsford. They were to Mr. Darcy's first proposal before Draco started to squirm.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. "Am I not reading it right?"

"No. You're fine." Draco said.

"Why are you all squirmy then?"

"It's uncomfortable to sit straight up and read, listen, whatever. I always lay down to read, or at least slouch."

"Oh," Harry said amicably. He leaned into the side of the couch, forcing Draco to lean on his shoulder. "Is that better?" he asked.

"Yes and no." Draco said quietly.

"Malfoy what is the matter with you?" Harry said, a little peeved.

"Nothing Harry. Just eager to get back to the story." He smiled weakly.

Harry smiled back; he started reading again.

_You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you._

Harry read it, speaking for Mr. Darcy, but it still made Draco flinch. How could he do this to himself? How could he do it to Harry after he'd promised to be friends with the git? How could he get a crush on him and ruin everything? Harry would never want that sort of relationship with him. Everyone was right. He really was a bastard. No wonder people steered clear of him.

Harry noticed that Malfoy was a little morose, but he figured that he must be sleepy or just not enjoying the way that Harry was reading the book. Maybe he didn't like this part of the book. It was a little emotionally uncomfortable to read the first proposal between Elizabeth and Darcy. Honestly though, the second proposal was the one that made Harry more uncomfortable. The openness, the willingness to be injured again, that Darcy exposed when he told Elizabeth that his feelings hadn't changed and waited for her to reject him again scared Harry. He couldn't imagine leaving yourself open to that deep a hurt.

Draco shifted again. He was stiffly leaning against Harry, and Harry was tempted to stop reading so that they could sit up and Draco could be comfortable. But physical touch had always comforted Harry, and if Draco was displeased with him but still willing to touch him, he didn't want to break it off. Thankfully Ron and Crabbe returned to the room then and took the decision from Harry's hands, because Draco shot straight up when the door opened.

"Mate!" Ron said, "You won't believe it!"

"You couldn't," Crabbe said.

Red hair and shaved head turned to each other and giggled.

"You two are annoying," Draco snarked.

Ron screwed his face up. "And you're a gormless prat," he said. "Anyway Harry," Ron said. "Guess what Snape did!"

"What?" Harry asked impatiently; Draco's bad mood was catching.

Ron was oblivious. "He thanked me! He said, and I quote, 'Thank you very much for informing me of this development right away, Mr. Weasley. Well done.' He actually said that!"

Harry smiled slightly. "That's nice Ron, amazing really."

"Isn't it! It was brilliant. It's amazing to have his approval, isn't that twisted? I mean I hate the snarky bastard, but to have him say 'Well done.' That's amazing, it's like being high!"

Crabbe looked at Ron askance. "Have you got a crush on him now?" he asked.

Ron laughed and used their joined hands to conk Crabbe on the forehead. They both laughed good-naturedly at each other.

Draco scowled.

Ron glanced around; he took in the food, and the book. "So what were you two doing?" he asked.

"We ate, now we're reading," Harry said.

"Brill, look at all this food," Ron said. "What're you reading?"

Draco made a grab for the book, but Harry held it up before he could get to it.

Ron squinted. "Again Harry! Honestly," he said.

Harry blushed. "It's not mine this time. It's Draco's, and he was _already_ reading it."

Ron snorted. "Great," he said, "another one. What do you think Vin," he said, "wanna join the pansies in reading their romance novel."

Crabbe shrugged. "Lizzy's really hot," he said.

"That settles it then," Ron laughed.

Ron and Crabbe settled in to their love seat and tucked into the food. When they'd finished they leaned back on opposite arms of the couch, their joined hands resting in the center of the couch between them. They looked for all the world like a couple. Harry started to have a giggle fit. He snickered so hard that he couldn't read, and Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed the book from him. He started reading and Harry leaned back against the arm of the couch, pulling Draco back so that he was laying on Harry's chest. Draco was very proud that his voice only faltered once or twice.

Ron grinned evilly. He squeezed Crabbe's hand, and nodded slightly towards Harry and Draco. Crabbe winked; he shifted on the couch so that he could lay his head in Ron's lap. When Ron's eyebrows rose in surprise Crabbe leaned up and whispered to him, _"It'll make Draco more comfortable to see us like this too."_

Ron looked thoughtful. He stared a Draco a moment, then he nodded.

Harry looked over and raised an eyebrow at Ron, pointedly looking down at Crabbe's head in Ron's lap. Ron shrugged at him and grinned. Harry smiled back.


	8. All Come Together

* * *

It was a haggard face, dry and weary. Eyes red-rimmed and lips cracked from constant moistening. The hair was dingy, clearly dirty, and the robes were wrinkled into patterns that resembled the shapes cut into hedgerows. The hands shook slightly, but they held tight to the piece of parchment in them. But the mind, the weary, brilliant, care-worn, tired-to-death mind, was not prepared for what it saw when it entered the newest dormitory at Hogwarts. It could not handle the sight of snake and lion, Death Eater's sons and Dumbledore's children, twined in sleep on black leather couches, peaceful; the mind fell. The body collapsed just after the mind, and Severus Snape sat flat on his ass in the middle of the room.

The thump of the Potion's Master hitting the floor woke Harry and for a moment he stared at the scene in fascination, then he realized it wasn't a dream. "Professor!" he said worriedly.

The others woke, and each of them took in the picture of snarky old Snape flat on his ass in their room at their own pace. Snape remained where he sat, his eyes nearly closed, his hands braced behind him, his piece of parchment nowhere to be seen.

Eventually Harry hauled Draco off of the sofa and over to Snape to see if he was ok. When questioned, Snape nodded slowly. They picked him up and put him on their sofa, where he curled into a ball and promptly fell asleep. Harry looked at Draco incredulously. Draco shrugged. They collected a blanket from a bed and threw it over Snape, then got dressed and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, leaving Ron and Crabbe to their potty rituals.

Harry had watched Ron and Crabbe suspiciously this morning, but he couldn't detect any further signs that they had become a couple. In a lot of ways Harry was glad. He didn't want to think that his friend could forget his affection for Hermoine so quickly, especially while she was still alive and there was some hope. In another way, Harry was sad that if they were a couple, as they seemed to be last night, they still felt the need to hide their affection. He decided he should really talk to Ron about it, but that was rather impractical when the object of the discussion couldn't get any farther than a step away; Draco was right, privacy bubbles were rude.

The "sky" of the Great Hall looked gorgeous, a cerulean blue that promised sun and a slight breeze before the front that would eventually bring rain. For a moment Harry longed for his broom and flight, until he remembered it was winter. This sky was most likely one of Dumbledore's attempts to trick the seasonal affective disorder out of his students. He was a wily one, that Dumbledore.

Harry hobbled Draco over to a window and they looked out over the misty, cold, shark-skin grey of the grounds. Draco grunted in displeasure, he really hated snow. Shuffling, Harry and Draco joined the Gryffindor table. It didn't occur to Draco to protest; it barely occurred to him to care. It was just a stupid table for a stupid meal at a stupid school that they would be leaving forever in a matter of months. It didn't matter at all anymore.

_

* * *

In the boys' washroom…_

"I think we're gonna have to take a shower Vin." Ron said.

Crabbe sniffed under his arm, lifting Ron's arm as well. As their combined scents reached him, he swiftly turned his head. "Yeah man," he said tightly, holding his breath. "We should."

"So, I'm thinking we wear our swimsuits," Ron said.

"Brilliant, as usual," Crabbe replied.

Ron squirmed a little. "Vin, about last night on the couch. I—you see what I mean is, I'm not—" Ron paused to look over at Crabbe, who was doubled over in silent laughter. "Hey!" Ron said, laughing himself. "I'm trying to say something important here!"

Crabbe could not stop laughing.

Ron patted him on the back when he started to choke.

Crabbe took in a few gasping breaths and said, "You were just so _serious_, like you were telling me everyone I loved in the world just died. Look Ron, I _know_ you're still hung up on Hermoine, hell, a lot of people are. I did what I did last night, because I want Draco and Harry to get together. That's all. If Draco's not comfortable touching Harry when we're around, then he'll never do it. Or, maybe if he sees us touching each other (because he knows that I'm not actually with you) then he'll feel like he can _casually_ touch Harry too."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I figured that part out last night. Big duh."

Crabbe snickered. "Then why were you getting ready to do 'the speech' then?"

You're just so…_complimentary_ and you _do_ touch me all the time, and I don't know I just got a _vibe_.

Crabbe barely held himself back from another giggle fit. "Look Weasley, I hang around the dreaded Malfoy, or had you forgotten? There was a time when he used to get squidgy pants if you didn't compliment him all the time. I'm sure it's just a left over. And, I'm a touchy-feeler person, you're gonna have to get over that… it doesn't mean anything. As for the vibe, I _do_ really like you man—but not like _that_."

Ron sighed. "What's wrong with me?"

"Huh?" Crabbe asked.

"Why don't you like me like _that_?"

"Well, cuz I'm not gay. Hello!"

"Oh, we always assumed you and Goyle…"

Crabbe's brow darkened. "Gregory and I were never that sort of friends."

Ron shrunk from the tone of Crabbe's voice.

"So do you think I'll have to call him _Draco_?" Ron said, trying to change the subject.

Crabbe laughed. "You may. Maybe you should practice."

Ron's eyebrow rose. "Draaaacoo," he said swoonily. "Draco!" he said angrily. "Draco," he said pleasantly. "Oh, Draaaaaacoo…" he moaned.

Crabbe's eyebrows rose painfully high.

"What?" Ron asked, then seemed to realize. "Oh, that last one was wishful thinking; he's so hot. I figure I'll probably be using the second one most though."

Crabbe shook his head sorrowfully. Why did his friends always turn out slightly mental?

"Oh, and Vin," Ron said, "It's touchy-feely—not feeler, and what the _hell_ are squidgy pants?"

Well, Crabbe thought, maybe I turn them that way.

* * *

When Ron and Crabbe entered the Great Hall, Harry and Draco were sitting alone in a sea of empty seats in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Ron looked at Crabbe, clearly something had taken place here.

"Hey guys," Ron said. "Did you not get that shower in this morning?" he joked weakly, looking around at the other Gryffindors who were keeping their distance.

"No, we didn't, but that's not why those cowards are hanging back." Harry said.

Ron squirmed, he _hated_ it when Harry went mental and used his scary voice like this.

Crabbe had no compunctions though. "So what the hell happened then?" he asked, flopping down on the bench opposite Harry and Draco. Ron sat as well.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Wonder boy over here broke their goblets and splashed them with juice."

Ron looked around, they did look rather—orange, and sticky. "All of them?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said tiredly.

"Detention?" Ron asked.

"A week," Harry said.

Crabbe was getting pissy, but if they were going to do this stupid back and forth 'I'm your bestest friend ever and I know everything you're going to say' thing, then he was going to get in on it to. And he was not jealous! No…

"What for?" Crabbe asked, thinking two words must be acceptable.

Harry snapped out of it. "For breaking the goblets."

"No shit. Why'd you break them?"

"Oh," Harry was taken aback, "They uh, they insulted…"

Draco snorted. "Me. They insulted me, with a side dish of threat."

Crabbe's fist automatically clenched, his eyes squinted, his teeth ground.

"Relax Vin," Malfoy said. "It's ok."

Still, it took Crabbe some time to back down. Ron was truly impressed. Looking around the Gryffindor table, Ron could imagine what had been said. He wasn't ashamed to admit he probably would have said it too, but he was surprised at how angry he was with the rest of them for doing it.

"What did they say?" he ground out.

Malfoy's head whipped up in surprise. "What?" he asked.

"What. Did. They. Say. To. You," he fumed a minute then added, "Two."

Harry squirmed, he _hated_ angry Ron, it was scary.

Draco decided to try out this new Angry-on-his-behalf!Ron. It was interesting. "They called me a ponce, and told me that if I molested Harry they would beat it out of me later on. It was _implied_ that they would _show me a good time_ while they did it. I'm sure they didn't mean it Weasley. You Gryffs are big on the empty, but creative, threat."

"What!" Ron was astonished. This was _not_ what he had imagined had been said. "What?" he said again.

"Ron," Harry said. "Please don't make another scene. Believe me, mine was bad enough."

Draco nodded solemnly. "He yelled quite a bit, though not in anyone's general direction. Then the goblets burst in their owner's faces, then he called your sister and that Kevin boy some very dirty names."

Ron drained completely, "Ginny?" he asked Harry.

Harry looked away, but nodded.

"Who else?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed. "Kevin, and some third years I don't know."

Ron looked around, he spotted her at the far end of the table. "Ginevra Weasley," he yelled, "Get your ass down here, right now! And bring your little fuck-muppet."

Kevin looked like he wouldn't comply, but Ginny was frantically pulling at his sleeve and motioning to Ron. Harry giggled—she should be scared. Draco looked up at the head table, but Dumbledore and McGonagall were the only ones still there, and they were determinedly ignoring the scene. Well, Dumbledore was. McGonagall was grinning at Ginny maliciously.

"Was it really necessary to hit him?" Harry asked, as they all walked back towards their dorm.

"Yes, it most definitely was," Ron smiled.

"But he was Ginny's boyfriend. Your mom will certainly hear about this."

"Oh, she will, she'll hear about it from _me_," Ron said.

Harry looked over at Ron.

Ron sighed, "Do you honestly think Percy is full straight Harry? Or Bill? Come on…that earring alone…anyway these things are supposed to be accepted here but that _Kevin_…Harry you do get what he was threatening to do to…"

Ron was beginning to get angry again.

"So, what was all that you were saying about Neville when you were pummeling Kevin?" Malfoy asked.

Ron looked surprised. "Did I talk about Neville?" he asked Harry.

Harry frowned, he nodded.

"Neville was Kevin's best friend," Ron said carefully. "Until, on my urging, he told Kevin what he really felt about him. Kevin seemed to take it well, but they were never close friends anymore. Then, during The Battle of Godric's Hollow, Kevin 'beat it out' of Neville. We couldn't prove he'd done it, it was a battle, anyone could have beaten him up." Ron paused. "Oh god!" he said, "Neville wasn't at the table, was he?"

Harry shook his head no.

"Oh, thank god for some things," Ron sighed.

Draco looked thoughtful, he stared at Ron. "I'd say it's a good job Ron," he said, "not subtle, but still satisfying."

Crabbe giggled a bit. Harry shook his head.

Ron looked over at Malfoy, "Thanks Draco," he said, and winked. Malfoy blew him a kiss, they both smiled.

* * *

"Can you believe this git is still asleep on our couch?" Ron said, grimacing at the potions master.

Crabbe snerked. "You liked him well enough last night," he said. "Oh professor Snape, no problem professor. Of course, professor."

Ron smacked him in the head.

"Would you two stop?" Harry said. "It's disturbing."

"Our love disturbs you Harry?" Ron asked innocently.

Draco choked. "Loovee?" he asked.

Crabbe scowled convincingly. "You have a problem with my love for the Weasel, Malfoy?"

Harry giggled.

Draco looked over at him like he was crazy.

Crabbe giggled.

Harry threw his arms around Crabbe and laughed uncontrollably. Ron and Draco looked at each other over their heads.

"Are you two done yet?" Ron asked a few seconds later.

"Jealous Ronnie?" Harry asked slyly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ok, fine. Vin and I do not share the love that dare not speak its name, but I will. We do not bump and grind, we do not do gay sex. Are you happy?"

"I'd be happier if you hadn't given me that image," Draco said.

Harry laughed. "Sure I'm happy, if you're happy. But I like Crabbe." Harry winked and pinched Crabbe's ass. "Can I have him?"

"Oi!" Crabbe shouted.

"I'm going to say something I haven't said in many years," a low voice said behind them. "Ewh!"

"Professor!" Ron said. The other three giggled, he shot them a shut-up! look.

"Mr. Weasley, where is my parchment?" Snape asked.

Ron looked befuddled. He glanced over at the other boys, they all shook their heads. "I, uh, don't have your parchment sir."

"Well then where the hell is it?"

"Uhm, in your office? Or…maybe your lab?"

"It's a workroom, not some mad scientist's lab, and I brought the parchment in here! Where is it?"

"Sir," Draco said, "Perhaps you dropped it when you fell down."

Snape glared daggers at him. "Well, what a kind suggestion. Find it then!" he snarked.

Draco pouted.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, "it contains the formula for the potion that will separate you. If you don't find it, I refuse to make the calculations again."

Draco immediately dropped to his knees, causing Harry to follow him. They looked under the bed, while Crabbe and Ron crawled around looking under the sofas.

"Here it is!" Crabbe bellowed. He handed it to Ron and motioned towards professor Snape with a wink. Ron rolled his eyes and handed it over.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Snape said. Ron blushed, and the others giggled again. Snape looked at all of them suspiciously. When the professor walked to the window to read the parchment again, Ron hit all three of them. It didn't stop the giggles.

"So," Snape said. "I'll need some scrapings of skin from the affected areas to test the potion on. I'm confident that you'll be able to take it tonight though, so you boys should enjoy your last day together," he sneered derisively. The boys looked at each other with evil grins. They flew into each other's arms and turned round and round in circles, heaving great fake sobs and kissing each other's necks.

Snape ran away.


	9. Break Us Apart

* * *

Dinner was hard for Harry, it was excruciating. No matter how many times Draco said that they would remain friends after they were separated tonight, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. There had been so many people who had vowed to never be parted from him, and who in the end had had no control over it anyway. He was most worried, that no matter what Draco said he wanted, he had no control over his inner world—the one that had successfully hated him for so many years. Harry spent hours that day, no matter what they were doing, imagining awful scenes of himself a year, or a week, or even a few hours down the road, losing Draco because of some stupid thing he did; he always did something stupid and lost the ones he loved. He'd lost Sirius to his stupidity, he'd lost Hermoine to it—and by her had lost intimacy and trust with Ron. The three people in the world that he had tried hardest to hold on to, were the three who most easily slipped through his fingers. Eventually he realized that he was dwelling, and probably wasting what little time he had left with this oddly tight-knit group of friends that had formed. Who could have known that he would enjoy Crabbe's company? Who could have known that it would begin to drag he and Ron back together? Who could have known that he could come to regard Malfoy, in only a few short days, as one of the most important things in his life? By the end of the day, he had gotten into the hang of enjoying his last day with him, but dinner—it was excruciating.

Draco poked at his mashed potatoes; they really were repulsive things if you thought about it. They had started life as these ugly brown lumps, then been ripped from their subterranean dwellings to be peeled and boiled alive, then crushed and mixed with curdled cow's milk and who knows what else. They were monstrosities, these little lumps of goo; there was clearly nothing good about them. Sorrowfully, Draco ladled another spoon of them into his mouth. He stared broodily at Harry, who was in turn staring broodily at Vin and Ron. What was Potter staring at them about? This wasn't Crabbe and Weasley's moment of despair, it was theirs! Vin and the Weasel would be perfectly fine, they weren't real enemies, they had never really hated each other. They would be friends forever, if he were to judge by the looks of them. They were so happy, chatting along through dinner, laughing, smiling, talking about finally being separated. All Draco could think about was the horror of the moment when he would be ripped from Harry, the horror of being separated from someone whom he had come to care about more in the past few days than anyone…ever. Even his mum and dad, even Pansy; perhaps especially his father, Draco thought wryly. Draco poked his cubed beef; who was to say that when they were torn apart, whatever it was that was making them tolerate each other—like each other—wasn't going to be torn away as well? Stupid Potter, stupid potions, stupid Crabbe and Goyle and Ron and _three_ sticks of Bardoll! Draco smashed is fork roughly into a block of beef and released it. It fell and splattered him with gravy goo, and he scrunched his nose in distaste. Stupid gravy.

Harry squirmed, Draco was assaulting his food and Harry cursed the fact that he didn't know him well enough to know why Draco might be upset. Maybe he was upset that they were still sitting at dinner, that they hadn't followed professor Snape out as soon as he had left the dining hall--that they hadn't rushed to be rid of each other. Maybe, Harry thought, he was mad that their connection was going to be severed. But then, that was wishful thinking on his part, wasn't it? Maybe Draco just hated cubed beef and mashed potatoes. Harry sighed and plopped his head into his hands, unfortunately upsetting a tureen of gravy when his elbows hit the table. The gravy flew across and hit Crabbe squarely in the face. Crabbe in turn swiped it with his hand and flung it onto Ron. Draco looked over in horror. They wouldn't, he thought, they couldn't. Oh, but they would. A food fight the likes of which Hogwarts had never seen ensued, and when the four boys finally departed the dining hall, they had various splotches of food all over them. Ron and Crabbe laughed and marched happily towards the dungeons while Harry and Draco, out of the necessity of their stumping gait, fell behind.

Draco glanced at Harry, there was an interesting splotch of mashed potatoes and gravy running down Harry's neck. Yes, Draco thought, those things were pure evil—because they were calling to him with a thousand demon voices to lick that little splotch right off of Harry's neck. Something, that as a sane and rational person who only occasionally heard potato and gravy voices, he refused to do. Instead, he reached out and ran his finger up Harry's neck, capturing the evil spuds, and licked them from his own hand.

Harry jerked away when the finger touched his throat, but it followed him. Draco ran his searing finger up his neck, all the way to his jawline and just behind his ear. Then as Harry watched, Draco calmly licked his finger. Harry felt lost, he was in some sort of twilight zone where Draco Malfoy ate things off of his body. Things that, ewh, who-knows-who had thrown and touched and perhaps picked up off the floor. Hadn't Draco gotten enough to eat at dinner? Harry had noticed that he'd been less than enthusiastic about his food in there, but what made it so much better out here in the hall as it ran down Harry's throat? Harry shook his head in dismay, perhaps Draco was a little insane. But what was that feeling that he'd gotten when Draco had touched him? He smiled, he felt so much affection for the blonde in front of him. Surely, it was unnatural to like someone so much after only a few days. Surely, there was something wrong with the way that he'd disliked Draco for so long, and then casually thrown it away. Didn't it show some lack of character on his part? Harry glanced over at Draco again; he was blushing, and wiping the finger that he'd licked on the front of his robes. Harry smiled, he decided to say the hell with his character. Who could dislike someone as beautiful as Draco? Whoa, wait, Harry thought, he smiled ruefully—now he got what his problem was. Of course he didn't mind having hated Draco; he had a mad crush on him.

Draco blanched at the curve of Harry's smile. There was something wrong in that smile, something knowing. Had he figured out that Draco liked him? Was he planning to use that information later to torture Draco? Would there be no peace in his life ever from the taunts of Potter and his bevy of friends? For Draco had no doubt that a day after they were separated all the Gryffs would make up, and he—Draco—would be separated from Ron and Harry again, forever. There would be no breaching the gap, if it were ever cultivated again. If he were betrayed, Draco was sure there would be real heat in his hatred from then on, and he doubted he could surmount it.

Harry grinned on ruthlessly; he had decided to try out his conclusion about his feelings for Draco by returning the gesture that had so disturbed him. He searched Draco's face and neck with his eyes, trying to find some small blotch of identifiable food that he wouldn't feel gross eating. There, on Draco's forehead, was a streak of gravy. That would do. Reaching out, Harry forced Draco's head towards his own, he bent it carefully down, and licked a red-hot stripe from eyebrow to hairline.

Draco panted with excitement, Harry was holding his head—forcing it towards his own. Was Harry going to kiss him? Perhaps Harry liked him as well; was it possible? But no, Harry was tilting his head down. Draco cursed himself, of course Harry didn't want to kiss him; it was utterly ridiculous. But then, oh then, out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Harry's tongue emerge from his mouth, he felt the pressure and the roughness and the heat and wetness of it as it left a burning streak across his forehead. Draco gasped, and did the only thing that seemed right at the time. He flung himself away from Potter with as much force as he could. He hit the wall with a hard thump, and groaned, only to be hit equally hard in the front with an out-of-control Potter. Their foreheads collided like bowling balls smacking hollow pins. Harry groaned.

"Ow, fuck Draco, why'd you do that?" he asked

"You—you—licked me!" Draco shrieked.

"Well, so what? You ate potatoes from my neck."

"That," Draco said with a high and mighty air, "is an entirely different thing than putting your actual _tongue_ on someone else's skin."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry ok? I didn't know you'd make such a big deal of it."

Draco scoffed. "Like I'm some sort of ice cream cone or something, some sort of thing for you to just lick whenever you feel like it. An object or something. I'm not! I'm a person and if people want to lick me they ask. That's how it is."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and nodded solemnly. "You are not ice cream," he said.

"Damn right."

The rest of the way to Snape's workroom the two kept their silence. Draco fumed at himself for his insane over-reaction. He had _liked_ it for Christ's sake. Why had he made such a production about it? Harry brooded. Draco couldn't handle a lick from him; he was _never_ going to want to kiss him.

* * *

They caught up to Crabbe and Ron outside of Snape's workroom. The two of them were glancing nervously at the door and Ron was bright red.

"Ron for Christ's sake," Harry said. "He's not going to hurt you; he told us to come down after dinner."

Crabbe laughed. "It's not that. I was just teasing him about his crush on Snape, and now he's afraid he'll make a fool of himself when he sees him."

Harry gaped, "You've got a crush on Snape?" he whispered.

"No!" Ron said. "I just liked his praise. But Vin won't shut up about it, so now I get all uncomfortable around him. It's really, really rude." He glared at Crabbe, who merely chuckled.

"How's that for over-sensitive Ron?" Draco said. "I'm sure old Snaggle Britches would be pleased a hot young stud like you has a crush on him."

"Malfoy!" Ron screamed.

"You're one to talk about over-sensitive," Harry grumbled.

Draco shot him a look of death, but at that moment the door to Snape's workroom opened.

"Am I destined," Snape said with rancor, "To be disturbed in every aspect of my life for the rest of my days by you morons blathering on about something or other?"

The boys looked chastised.

"Get in here," Snape said, "Before I decide to condemn you to a life connected together."

_I wish_, Harry thought, as the door slammed behind them.

* * *

Snape's workroom, no matter what he said to the contrary, _was_ a mad scientist's lair. There were beakers and vials all over the place, and a vast network of tubes ran around through the air near the ceiling transporting who-knew-what, who-knows-where. Noticeably center stage, a giant cauldron sat on a dais. Snape stirred it with a huge wooden paddle.

Draco snorted. "Drama queen, much?" he said.

Snape pouted.

"I think it's brilliant…" Ron said, looking around in wonder. Crabbe guffawed.

"Uhm," Harry said, trying to cover Ron's embarrassment. "Is that our potion?"

"Of course not," Snape snarked. "Why in the world would you need such a large batch? This," he said, "Is fizzy-lifting drink. I got the idea from a muggle movie, it's fantastic. I'd let you try some, but I hate all of you." Snape shrugged unapologetically.

"So," Draco said impatiently, "where is our potion?"

Snape looked very put out. "Come with me," he said. "We won't do it in here. I don't want any of my important exper-i-ments to get blown up."

The boys looked at each other nervously as they crossed into Snape's private quarters. In fact, into the same sitting room Harry and Draco had passed through before. Harry glanced nervously at the door leading to Snape's bedroom; he was kind of squicked that he'd been in Snape's bed. He looked over at Draco; it looked like he was having the same thoughts.

"Sir," Ron said. "Are you saying we might blow up?"

Snape glanced at him irritably. "Well, there's always that risk isn't there?" he said, producing four vials of purple liquid. "Here you go! Drink up, drink up, drink up!"

They all took their vials carefully, clearly Snape had been taking something himself, and they were wary.

Finally, Ron thought.

Looks tasty, Crabbe thought.

So this is it, Draco thought.

Oh god—I don't want this to be it, Harry thought.

Snape huffed with impatience. "You have to actually _drink_ it," he said. "Not just stare at it."

As one they tipped the vials, and the shining purple liquid flowed into their mouths.

Snape watched avidly as the boys shuddered with revulsion at the taste. Ahh, so the bitter walnut skin worked, he cackled inwardly—that was so fun to do. Then, the false skin connecting the boys crumbled to dust and fell to the floor. That, he thought, was nasty. He would have to get the houselves to scour that part of the floor all night. Weasley and the Crabbe boy immediately sprang apart, and did little dances around his sitting room that he would have to try very hard to erase from his memory. Then, they rushed back into each other's arms and hugged. God, Snape thought, these boys were such pansies. He'd spent more time lately watching them embrace than anything else. Unfortunately, he was then overtaken by those same two enthusiastic boys and thoroughly hugged himself; it was most unpleasant. When he had peeled them off of himself, Snape looked over at Potter and Malfoy. They had taken no more than a step apart, and were looking at each other uneasily. Then Potter turned and walked towards Weasley, but he got no more than three steps before he stopped. He looked over at Snape in surprise.

"Sir," he said. "I can't move any further."

Snape frowned. "Impossible," he said, walking over and grabbing Harry by the arm. He pulled firmly, but only succeeded in dragging Draco along with Harry.

"But," Ron said. "Vin and I separated just fine, what?"

Snape scowled. "Go away," he said, "Go and tell the headmaster."

The boys looked at him incredulously.

"Well I've got to have peace to work on the problem, don't I?" he said.

They all nodded, and filed slowly out of his rooms.

Snape fumed, those boys were _such_ a pain in the ass!


	10. Makeover! Draco

A/N: heh, herein lies makeover!Draco...

* * *

Harry and Draco were sitting on two black leather love seats. They had managed to get far enough apart for that, but they'd had to remove the coffee table and push the couches closer together in order to do it. Ron and Crabbe, after demonstrating for Dumbledore that they were perfectly well separated, had returned to their house dormitories. Draco, Harry noticed, was staring off into space just a little to the right of Harry's head. He had a frown between his brows, and his hands were absentmindedly fiddling with his robes. Harry was petrified, they hadn't said a word to each other since the attempted separation and he was sure that Draco was angry. The way that the Slytherin had spoken to Dumbledore about their continued connection was enough to make him sure of that. Dumbledore's unhelpfulness really hadn't helped with Draco's mood.

"Draco," Harry said nervously. "Are you angry with me?"

Draco glanced over at Harry. Angry? With Harry? Of course not. Why would he be angry with Harry for something that was no fault of his? But then Draco realized, he _would_ have blamed Harry for all of this only a few days ago. It was becoming hard to remember how he _would_ have reacted in the light of how he naturally reacted to him now. No, Draco wasn't angry, he'd just been contemplating their life together. Because obviously, they were going to have a life together now. Dumbledore'd had no idea what had caused them to remain together, and Draco knew he'd been telling the truth. He sighed, all of his life was like this; everything was always decided for him. So, okay, maybe he was a little bitter. But certainly it wasn't aimed at Harry; it wasn't Potter's fault.

"Of course not Harry," he said. "I just hate it when I can't make my own choices, you know?"

Harry nodded calmly. He felt deep down, that this might be his fault, he might be making Draco stay with him. It made him feel enormously guilty, but he didn't know how he might change it. His magic was always somewhat out of control; he'd just had too much flowing through him after the war. Harry could tell in Dumbledore's office that the headmaster thought this was his fault. He had kept looking at him with twinkly eyes and that irritating amused smile. Amused, but disappointed. Well it wasn't his fault! It was proven, there was no way to control his outbursts of magic sometimes. Ugh, more dwelling. He really wasn't made out for the brooding type. He tried to lighten the mood.

"So do you think we did the right thing by telling Dumbledore that Snape was high?" he asked.

Draco laughed. "I think so, the man was definitely on _something_ even if it was just fumes."

"Yeah really, he was almost hyper." Harry ran a hand through his hair and twirled the long strands at the nape of his neck.

Draco watched the progress of Harry's hand. God, he would love to play with Harry's hair. That's it, he thought, I'm a total pouf—and I've lost it, completely. His mind fell back on he and Harry's not-so-almost kiss in the hall earlier. Did you just lick people that you weren't a little attracted to? Maybe Harry could like him? Well—no sense in delaying things… he might as well find out at the beginning of this relationship if he had any chance or not. But how to get close enough to Harry to touch and seduce him? This would have been much easier when they were still hip-to-hip Draco thought ruefully. Then he grinned, it may have been easier then—but there was a certain advantage to being able to be face-to-face now.

"Harry," Draco said, grinning. "Why don't you let me cut your hair, I'm really very good at it."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Really? When did you learn to…"

"Doesn't matter," Draco smiled. "Will you let me?"

"Uhm, sure, I guess so." Harry said, after all it really _did_ need a cut.

"Great," Draco said. "Take off your clothes."

Harry started. "What?"

Draco grinned slyly. "Your robes, and your shirt—so they won't get hair on them."

Oh, Harry thought. "Oh…ok," he said.

Draco watched avidly as Harry removed his cloak and his sweater. Unfortunately, Harry had on one of those white men's tanks underneath. Damn. Well, it would have to do. Draco took the time to look Harry's body over; he hadn't really had a chance in the shower. It was much like he'd remembered from his glimpse, small but muscular, tan smooth skin. There were freckles on his shoulders and it was all Draco could do not to 'Awhh!' at the sight of them.

"So where do you want to do this?" Harry asked.

"Uh, I—ahem, I guess we should go in the bathroom."

Harry got up and they headed for the bathroom. Draco walked behind and watched the curve of his thigh, the pull of the denim, and the cute way that Harry's little white shirt dipped in at the curve of his back. It was beautiful.

"Wait," Harry said. "You want me to sit on a toilet! No way!"

Draco sighed, what was it with Potter and the toilets?

"I guess we could do it out there," Draco said. "It's not as if we have to clean it up."

"True," Harry said. "But we should, I mean—it's rude to leave it and expect…"

Draco huffed impatiently.

"Fine," Harry said.

Draco pulled a chair up into the center of the room and motioned for Harry to sit down, then he pulled off his own robes and folded them. He hesitated a moment, then removed his shirt as well. He, was not wearing a tank.

"Draco what?" Harry said.

"I don't want your hair on me either Potter. That shirt is very had to get clean."

Harry nodded, but reluctantly.

Draco did a mental victory dance that involved hugs and banners and muggle fireworks, then he accio'ed his scissors and approached a very skittish Harry Potter.

"You won't cut it too short?" Harry asked. "I mean, you don't cut Crabbe's hair do you?"

Draco smiled. "You doubt my fashion sense Harry? Or do you think I'm going to do something mean to you just for the hell of it?" Draco paused. The words had come out of his mouth easily, but the thought that Harry might actually be contemplating that really rather hurt. "Is that what you're thinking?" he demanded.

"No," Harry said. "I just have bad experiences with hair cuts. My uncle…nevermind. I trust you."

His grin got slightly evil. "Maybe that's not a good plan Potter."

"What?"

Draco laughed. "I'm joking, Christ, calm down Harry. I'm going to cut your hair, not change your life."

"A haircut can be a life changing experience. You're not you unless your hair looks like you. And don't expose my scar."

Draco snerked. "I thought it was the clothes that made the man?"

Harry sighed. "Can we just get on with this horror?"

Draco nodded, and moved behind Harry; he reached out and ran a tentative hand through the hair. It wasn't exactly soft, but it wasn't horsehair either. Harry's jet-black locks caressed his white fingers beautifully, and for a minute he was mesmerized by the sight of it. He pushed all of the hair forward, then smoothed it back down and ran his fingers through it again.

"Uhm, are we ever going to get to the actual cutting?" Harry asked.

"I'm just judging the way your hair falls," Draco lied. "I'm trying to figure out what the best cut for you would be." The truth was, that from the moment he'd seen Harry he'd known how he would cut his hair. He judged everyone's hair; it was just something he did. Harry's face required something short on the sides, and rather long and spiky on top. It would be so hot, and Draco hesitated doing it. He was more than attracted to Potter now, even with his tragic hair. When Harry had the proper hair cut, would he be able to control himself?

Harry's hands lay stiffly on his knees and he was doing his best to keep his head upright and stare straight ahead, but the way that Draco kept massaging his head and playing with his hair was making it hard not to lean back and groan in pleasure. Draco who was, Harry remembered, half naked—and standing right behind him. If he had ever doubted that he was actually attracted to Malfoy, this would have been enough to prove it. He shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair, and lamented the lack of his robes. Restlessly, he untucked his shirt and pulled it down as far as it would go.

Harry was really very squirmy, Draco thought. When Harry untucked his shirt and tugged on it, Draco had the happy idea that perhaps the situation was turning him on. As casually as he could, he leaned his body into the back of Harry's chair and reached for Harry's fringe. Holding it between two fingers he made his first cut. A tiny snip really, since he was keeping most of the hair there—but it was worth it to feel Harry draw in a quick breath.

"Something the matter, Harry?" Draco asked.

"N-No, I'm fine," Harry lied.

Draco smiled, this was promising.

Eventually Draco had cut the back and the sides of Harry's hair as much as he wanted, and he had to move to the front to see how things were looking. This would be a delicate maneuver, he knew. How to stand crotch-to-face with Harry, and not come off too aggressively sexual? Well, he would play it by ear. He walked around the chair, but Harry had his knees pressed together like a sixteen-year-old nun who's desperately afraid of appearing unseemly.

"Potter, you have to let me get a little closer," Draco huffed. "Come on, open up," he said, nudging Harry's knees apart. Well, he thought, I've just failed subtlety 101.

Harry's knees ground apart at a rate slower than the gates of Mordor parting. His legs shook slightly, and he braced his hands on his outer thighs in an effort to make them stop. Draco slipped both legs carefully between his thighs, and pretended nonchalance.

Harry desperately searched for someplace to look, as staring straight ahead was no longer an option. Straight ahead was Draco's waist, and a little lower—his crotch. His crotch, that was not exactly flat and innocent. Harry tried looking up, but then he could see up Draco's nose and that was awful. He tried looking straight down, but that just gave him a view of Draco's gorgeous legs encased in slim black trousers that hugged just right at the hip, and thigh. Looking to the left or the right was too uncomfortable, it gave him a headache, so Harry closed his eyes.

Draco glanced down, Potter had closed his eyes. It was just as well, he was immensely embarrassed that he was shoving his er—excitement, in Harry's face. Still, he had wanted to send a message loud and clear and he guessed he had done that. Draco ran his fingers back through Harry's hair, making it stand up at odd angles. He grinned, he'd always liked it like that. He accio'ed styling gel and rubbed some between his hands and then started placing the hair more artistically, some pulled down to cover the scar, some straight up, some back, some towards the sides. Then when he had the hair where he wanted it, he took his wand and lightly touched here and there while whispering a lightening spell to give Harry some brown highlights. Why not? They were temporary. He gasped when Harry's hands reached up and held him by the hips.

Harry smiled. Whatever Draco was doing felt so funny, like the warm tingle when someone cracks an "egg" on your head. He reached up and held Draco by the hips, afraid that soon the moment would be over, and he would back up, and this intimacy would be gone. As deathly afraid of this closeness as he was, he wanted the warmth—the strangeness—the tingle of having Draco so close. He tightened his grip, and pulled Draco forward slightly; his willowy form swayed in Harry's hands. Harry inhaled deeply and took in the smell of sweat and citrus and Draco, he was in heaven.

Draco's hands fell to the back of Harry's neck, and he pulled his head towards him until it rested on his naked belly. He felt Harry inhale again and smiled. He petted slowly down Harry's shoulders and slipped a hand down the top of his tank top, rubbing tiny circles between his shoulder blades. Beautiful Harry, what he wouldn't do to have this moment last.

Harry sighed, this was so perfect, he wished they never had to pull apart. His arms came up and he wrapped them around Draco's waist, holding as tight as he dared and burrowing his face further into his belly. Draco giggled a little, then tightened his grip as well.

They stayed that way, embracing in the middle of their dorm, until Draco started to get a crick in his back from the unnatural leaning he was doing.

"Harry," he said. "Can I dress you up?"

Harry's voice was slightly muffled by Draco's skin. "Absh whamf," he said.

Draco pulled back. "What?" he said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "As what?"

"What?"

Harry sighed. "What do you want to dress me up as?"

"Oh," Draco laughed. "No, I mean in fancy clothes. I just want to see…" Draco felt awkward. He was painfully aware that boys who were just friends didn't play dress up to see what their guy friends would look like in certain clothes.

Harry gave him a lop-sided smile. "Sure," he said. "Sounds fun." Which it didn't, but it would probably please Draco.

Draco smiled and pulled away, tugging on Harry's arm to make him follow him to the wardrobe. Harry sighed, but stood patiently while Draco rummaged around.

"Here we are!" Draco said, pulling out a dark green shirt and a very small looking pair of dark indigo jeans.

"Malfoy," Harry said, "There is no way I'm going to fit into your jeans."

Draco grinned evilly. "Try," he said.

Harry sighed.

Draco reached out and pulled Harry's tank top over his head. Harry was surprised, but offered little resistance. Draco used the shirt to swat the hair cuttings from Harry's shoulders, back, and chest—walking around and around him to do it. If he spent a little too long cleaning his back, then neither of them complained. He picked up the green shirt and held it out to Harry like you would a to a child.

Harry laughed, and threaded his arms through it. He was surprised how good it felt on his skin, even though it was excessively tight in his opinion. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans and slid down the zip. He was grateful when Draco merely handed him the jeans and turned around, it felt like his face would spontaneously combust.

Draco couldn't believe it, Harry had undone his pants in front of him—like he was just going to pull them off and change while he watched! Surely that was some sort of sign? Behind him, he heard Harry struggling with the jeans.

"Draco these are too small," Harry complained through his heavy breathing.

Risking a glance, Draco was amused to see Harry bouncing around with the jeans around his ankles, trying to pull them up. Then Harry fell flat on his ass. Draco sighed.

"You are so hopeless sometimes," he said.

Harry gave him a mock-hurt expression. "Just because I don't use a shoe-horn to get into my pants everyday…"

Draco snorted. "Why would you? Generally, three of you can get into your pants with room to spare. Though these," Draco said, picking up Harry's discarded jeans, "were better than what you used to wear."

"Help me up, you great pouf," Harry snarked.

Draco theatrically held a hand to his breast, then lowered it to help Harry up. When he was back on his feet, Draco bent down and grabbed the waistband of the jeans. Slowly, he wriggled and pulled and yanked until the jeans were all the way up. Harry panted as Draco eased them around his ass. Draco pretended to ignore it, and took a minute to smooth them down over said ass. He grinned to himself.

Draco was molesting him! Harry was absolutely shocked. Not only had Malfoy purposely picked the most impossible pants in the world, but he was now bodily shoving Harry's ass into them and then fondling it once it was encased. Well, Harry decided to be shocked. Then, he decided to just breathe as much as possible before Draco tried to close the pants.

Draco slipped his hands under the waistband of the jeans and buttoned them with some difficulty, then he reached down and carefully did up the zip. He stood back a moment to enjoy his handiwork. Harry looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" Harry asked. "What do you think?"

Draco hmm'ed. "You should see this yourself," he said, and they walked into the bathroom to the full-length mirror.

When Harry caught sight of himself he guffawed. "I look like a sausage," he said, then plucking at the shirt, "a moldy sausage."

Draco snerked. "Yes, you do a little. I stand by the color though."

Harry grinned, and shifted uncomfortably. "These pants are demon pants," he said.

"Yes, well they're not as bad as the potatoes," Draco murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing, Uhm, yes," he said. "Those pants are _way_ too tight." He pulled out his wand and tapped the button lightly, and the pants eased into a perfect fit. Harry whirled on him in outrage.

"You could have done that all the time!" he accused.

"What?" Draco asked innocently.

"You could have made the pants bigger so that I could get them on without help!"

Draco looked shifty. "Maybe…but I wanted to see if they would fit first."

Harry grinned evilly; he took a step towards Draco. "You wanted to grope me," he said.

"I didn't! I was just helping."

"Yeah," Harry snorted. "You helped me hold my ass in place for awhile."

Draco's face turned red. "You can prove nothing! I'm not going down for this! It's your word against mine! I'll talk to an attorney if I have to!"

Harry smiled, and took another predatory step. "You don't need an attorney," he said.

"I don't?" Draco whispered.

Harry grinned evilly; he threw his arms around Draco's waist and yanked him into his body. "No," he said.

"Oh," Draco said, his arms coming up to circle Harry's neck. His hands idly running up the freshly cut back of Harry's hair. He pulled slightly, and Harry's head came towards his with no resistance. He smiled.

Harry leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Draco's. It wasn't magical or earth shattering, but it was the best thing that he'd ever felt in his life.

Draco groaned, tilting his head and taking Harry's bottom lip between his lips. This was perfect, it couldn't get better—but then it did.

As their kiss became more fervent Harry pulled Draco to him and ground his hips against the other boys. They became more and more feverish and Harry couldn't get Draco close enough to him, it was madness, it was ecstasy, he had never felt such pure—guilt free—lust. Until, Draco cried out in pain. Harry jerked away from him.

There were tears running down Draco's cheeks, and his eyes were closed. Harry stared in shock. What had he done? He realized, that he didn't even know. But, clearly he had hurt Malfoy, and since he was crying—he had been hurting him for some time. Harry had never felt so empty, not even in the war when he had murdered men. Something inside of him had just been broken, permanently. He pushed past Malfoy and raced out of the room, free and unattached.

"Wait," Draco said weakly. "Harry wait." But, his only answer was the slam of their dormitory door.

Draco slumped against the sink, wheezing in his breath. Ironic, Draco thought, the minute that he wanted Harry attached to him most—was the one in which Harry broke free.


	11. Weepy! Draco

* * *

"Harry?" Ron called out as he entered the dungeon dorm. He walked in, taking in the disarray and hair clippings with amusement and confusion. He paused, when he heard sobbing coming from the bathroom. "Harry?" he said again, approaching the door. Reaching out he pushed it open fully and looked down at the form of Draco Malfoy, slumped against the tiles and sobbing. "Draco?" Ron said confusedly. "Where is Harry? I thought you two were still—"

Draco looked up briefly and let out a sniffle at the mention of Harry's name, but quickly looked back down. "He ran away," he said.

"What? Why?"

Draco snorked back his sob. "We were just kissing, and then he went all… wooo hooo and he ran away."

"Woo hoo?" Ron asked.

Draco nodded.

Ron sighed. "And he woo hooed all by himself? There was no …pause to take time to freak out or…I dunno, some sort of problem that would have caused him to …"

"Hey! I do not have any problems that would cause…" Draco covered his face and sobbed again.

Ron walked over to kneel down beside Draco, and took him in his arms. "What happened Draco? It's not like I'm gonna be mad or anything. If it makes you feel better, whatever happened was clearly Harry's fault and he shouldn't have run off."

Draco's shoulders heaved slightly and Ron perceived a weak laugh.

"I have this injury," Draco said. "You remember in the war…I'm sorry about your dad Ron."

Ron was confused, to say the least. "My dad?" he asked.

"I was there that day, I mean night, at Knockturn Alley. It's where it happened."

"What happened?"

"I got hit with a burning curse and I went down. Then there was all this noise and great chunks of the building were falling. Your dad, he was taken hostage that day. I saw him disappear with the Death Eaters, and then I didn't see anything else because the stone fell and it crushed my spine. I woke up weeks later, the were—I mean Remus, he brought me in."

Ron couldn't say more than, "Oh." He rubbed circles on Malfoy's back and used the other hand to pet the back of his hair. "Malfoy I don't understand what this has to do with kissing Harry," he finally said.

Draco sniffled. "Well, I was getting to that. We were kissing," he said, as he rubbed his face on the front of Ron's robes. "We were kissing, and Harry was pulling me really close and he just—he pulled too hard and the wrong way and it hurt and so I made this … noise you know, like a pain noise and he noticed that I was you know—crying, and I don't know what he thought but he ran away before I could tell him what was wrong and he looked so disgusted and he was _supposed _to be attached to me but he wasn't! I just—I wanted to tell him but he was so horrified at what he'd done." Draco sobbed heavily, "And I don't know which part disgusted him, that he'd kissed me or that he'd hurt me!" he wailed.

Ron rolled his eyes. Thankfully Draco, with his head buried somewhere in Ron's chest, couldn't see it. Ron took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was sitting on a cold tile floor cuddling Draco Malfoy while he sobbed about his lost love—Harry Potter. It was immensely funny, as two days ago he would have been horrified by the prospect. Right now, he was only horrified that Draco kept rubbing snot on him. And oddly, that it was mildly arousing to be holding someone again. Ron filed that one away for future reference.

"Draco," Ron said. "I'm sure that Harry meant to kiss you. He's been all moony-eyed—no pun intended," Ron chuckled to himself, "about you."

"He has not," Draco said. "I'm quite egotistical and I would have noticed if he was noticing me and he hasn't been—not until very very recently. Like—today recently. So stop lying to me Weasley! Or I'll fork you to death."

"Fork?" Ron asked confusedly.

"Yes," Draco said. "They're eating utensils. We civilized people use them instead of our fingers when we sit down to eat."

Ron snorked and poked Draco in the side. Draco yelped, and giggled slightly.

"Well," Ron said. "Maybe Harry hasn't been, but I've seen you being dreamy towards him."

"So?" Draco snapped.

Ron shrugged. "So look, I'm quite sure that Harry was disgusted that he'd hurt you. It probably scared him."

"Do you think so?" Draco asked, tilting his head up to look at Ron.

"I think so," Ron said, smiling slightly.

Draco thought about it, and decided that Ron probably knew Harry better than anyone else, so maybe he knew what he was saying. And speaking of Ron knowing Harry really well, it occurred to him to ask…

"Wait," he said. "Is Harry even gay? We had this whole discussion…"

"Uhm," Ron said, thinking. "Well there was that Oliver Wood thing, I mean …that was be-yond hero worship. Puh-luh-eaaaase. But, I don't think he's really gay—he's more bi probably, there's been a few girls…" Ron squinched his nose. "I think," he said.

Draco nodded. "Could we…I'm ok now, could we get up?"

Ron sighed in relief. "Yes please," he said. "My ass is never going to recover."

"Oh Weasley," Draco teased. "You flatter me. I mean I know I'm good but to _never_ recover is still a bit of an exaggeration."

Ron stared for a moment, wide eyed with horror. His hands paused midway to rubbing his bum.

Draco laughed delightedly.

"Or you know," Ron said. "Maybe Harry was just disgusted that he'd kissed you when he knew he didn't feel anything for you like what he knew you felt for him."

Draco's eyebrows drew together, his chin quivered. "Ron," he said, "that was really really mean." He burst into tears.

"Oh Draco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I _know_ that's not what happened. I was just talking out of my arse… I'm so sorry."

Draco shook his head stubbornly. "I haven't been mean to you at all. Not since we started this whole thing. But you're just malicious…and I told you all that stuff…oh god you'll tell everyone and they'll laugh at me, and you say 'I'm sorry' about as sincerely as Potter. I hate you two! You're really annoying!" Draco walked over and threw himself into Ron's arms.

Ron stared at the ceiling. Really, his solitary life mourning Hermoine had been so much easier than this. He realized though, staring down at the shiny white hair, that he wanted friendships so much more than he wanted that back. There was something about being leaned on again that was (ok, arousing) but also warming, filling. He was sure that Hermoine would be proud of him for being nice to Draco. No—not for being nice to him. For _wanting_ to be nice to him. There was a difference between what you made yourself do, and what you really genuinely wanted. And really, that was the crux of the matter. Ron _wanted_ to like Draco. He _wanted_ Harry to get over himself long enough to love Draco. What Ron wants, he makes happen—but he had to find Harry first. He sighed, and patted Draco on the back.

"I'm—I wish I hadn't said that to you Draco, but I'm going to talk to Harry and I'm sure this is all going to be fine. I just …I need to help him sort some things out."

Draco raised his head slightly. "You're sure you can make it better?"

"Yeah," Ron said, smiling. "I can make everything better."

Draco wiped some more snot on Ron's robes. "I'll believe you Weasley, but only because I'm desperate."

Ron laughed, and pulled away from Draco. "That's as much as I can hope for."

Draco nodded sorrowfully.


	12. Weepy! Harry

* * *

Remus frowned into the ancient book that sat on his lap. Snape had just been by to forbid him to try _anything_ again, and he'd be damned if he was going to listen to Snape of all people. Who did that man think that he was? Some sort of _friend_? It was true, that he and Remus had formed some sort of bond over the past year but Snape had hated Sirius. What made him think that Remus was going to listen to any advice he might have on the subject? There was so much miscommunication, so many confused agendas, surrounding his life with Sirius that he was determined this time there would be no meddling from other people—no chance to question motives. If this book was right, there was a chance he could try, one more time. Of course, it required something he was not entirely willing to give.

A loud pounding at the door announced that though the locked door kept people out it did not necessarily keep them from bothering him. "Bugger off Snape! I bloody well swear that if you come in here one more time today I'm going to turn you into a…" The door burst open and Harry stumbled in. "Harry!" Remus exclaimed. Harry slammed the door shut.

As it turned out, there was much to exclaim over in the state of Harry's person. He was undeniably weepy, not to mention disheveled and covered in mud.

"Harry what on earth?" Remus said.

Harry leaned against Remus' desk and panted.

Remus decided to try a different tack. "Harry, why are you covered in mud?"

Harry glanced up through his fogged glasses. "I thought the mud would help, it did last time."

"Help what?"

Remus watched in fascination as Harry's lip began to tremble, his eyes squinched and began to water, then he burst into fresh tears.

"Draco hates me! I—I…" Harry wailed.

"What? Mr. Malfoy…were you two getting along?"

Harry sniffled, and Remus finally gave in. He walked over and patted Harry on the back.

"We were," Harry said, "We were…KISSING… and he was CRYING…and it was AWFUL…"

Trying to work through his shock quickly, so that he could help Harry, Remus endeavored to choke back the coughing fit that he really wanted to have at that revelation. He stuttered only slightly when he asked, "The er, the uhm, kissing? was bad or? Uhm…"

Harry jerked his head up. "NO!" he wailed. "No! The kissing was GREAT but then he pulled away and he was CRYING and…"

"Yes," Remus said, "I got that part. It was awful."

"Yes!" Harry wheezed.

Remus walked back around his desk. He steepled his fingers and tapped them lightly against his lips. "Ok," he said. "Now, see if you can breathe and not sob, long enough to tell me when it went from GREAT to AWFUL. Do you think you can Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Great," Remus said. "Why don't you have a seat? Take your time…"

Harry plopped into a chair in front of Remus' desk and wiped his face with the inside of his robe. Remus cringed, it was one of the many times he was glad that he had not been born a house elf.

"Ok," Harry said. "We were in the bathroom, and we were kissing."

Remus' face screwed up in confusion.

Harry saw. "He had just cut my hair," he explained, "I wanted to see it."

"OH!" Remus said. "So he did! My Harry, that is just a superb cut. I wonder where Mr. Malfoy learned to do that. You do think he'd do something about that Godfather of his if he's got such talent with a pair of scissors though…"

Harry made a 'we were talking about me' face.

"Sorry," Remus said. "Do continue."

"Ok, so, we were kissing," Harry said. "And then Draco made this noise, that just doesn't belong in kissing, you know?"

"A groan?" Remus asked.

"No…"

"A screech?"

"NO."

"More of a choke, or perhaps a cough?"

"Ewh, No."

"Hmm, was it a growl or a bark? Because, sometimes those belong in kissing. I know, that it may be odd to get used to it at first but…"

"Remus!" Harry screamed. "Please don't finish telling me about that."

Remus nodded. "No, yes. You're absolutely right. I was…nevermind. Go on, Harry."

Harry sighed. "And then when I pulled back to see what was wrong, he'd been CRYING for like, AWHILE and it was—"

"Awful?" Remus asked.

"Yes!" Harry said.

Remus smiled. "I'm sure that you're reading to much into this. Did you accidentally bite him?"

"What? No." Harry said.

"Maybe you leaned him into something pointy?"

"I—No, he was leaning on me."

Remus sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ok, perhaps your, er…bits were uhm…No, I'll start over. Were your pieces and his…did they perhaps get uhm, were you wearing. No, was he wearing tight er, did his pants have a zip? Because sometimes, the zip…"

Harry held up his hand. "Stop it! And NO! My pants were uhm, the tighter and uh… just NO ok?"

Remus nodded gratefully. "No. Very good. Ok. Uhm… Well, tell me exactly what happened before he made this mystery noise."

"Ok, So we were kissing…"

"Yes, I _got_ that part. Tell me what you, uh, did—during the kiss."

Harry blushed. "I, we—" he sighed mournfully. "Wekindofrubbedtogethersome."

"Y-Yes, and uh…what else?"

"Nothing, I pulled him closer and we…uh, rubbed, and uhm… I held him tight and…"

Remus' head jerked up in surprise. "You pulled him tight? You held him close?"

Harry stared at Remus like he'd lost a marble or two. "Well, Yeah. Course."

"And where were your hands?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Remus, I'm not entirely sure that this is leading anywhere and you're starting to creep me out…so…"

"Tell me where you pulled him from! Where were your hands!"

Harry sighed. "I dunno, his lower back?"

Remus jumped up out of his chair. "Ahhhh HA!" he said.

"Ahh…whaa?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Remus said. "Draco—do you have no idea what he did in the war?"

Harry snorted. "I know he got hurt and missed most of it."

Remus scowled at Harry. "He was crushed at Knockturn. CRUSHED, Harry. His spine is held together with magic now. It's very painful for him to be jerked around or held _tightly_."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh," he said. "Oh. Oh…God. But couldn't they fix it?"

"Well they fixed his organs, but his spine was pulverized. Snape's working on a potion to help his spinal cord grow back—some sort of variation on Skelegrow but it's still in the testing phases, not nearly ready for use."

Harry hung his head. "God, I'm so stupid. And I just left him there."

"You What!"

"Well he had this reproachful look on his face…and he looked so…upset with me. I thought…"

Remus snorted. "You and your Godfather…peas in a bloody pod."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

There was another knock at Remus' door. "Snape," Remus shouted. "I swear to God. I'll beat you with a blunt shovel until you look worse than you smell!"

Harry smiled.

The knock sounded again. "Uhm, Professor…" the voice said. "It's uhm, Crabbe. I thought…Well Ron sent me to see if Harry was here."

Remus stared at Harry, then looked back to the door.

"Well is he in there or not?" Crabbe asked.

"Come on in Mr. Crabbe," Remus said.

Crabbe walked in and over to Harry's chair where he promptly smacked him in the back of the head. "That one," he said, "was from Ron." He punched Harry in the arm. "That one was from me."

Harry rubbed his arm and pouted. "What do you want Vin?" he barked.

"Like I said, Ron sent me to see if you were here. And if you were here, I was to make you come to him. So's here I am, and here you go." He grabbed Harry by his robes and hauled him out of his chair.

"Hey Crabbe," Remus said in a Joisey accent. "You be careful with my boy. I'ms lettin you have him, but I better get him back with a head and four limbs. Capeche?"

"No problem Godfather," Crabbe winked.

Harry rolled his eyes as he was dragged from the room.


	13. Smoochies!

* * *

"Vin," Harry said, "For Christ's sake Vin stop pulling on my arm. I'm coming with you aren't I?"

"You're not coming fast enough." Crabbe said.

"What's the big hurry?"

"Ron's got plans for you." Crabbe laughed lightly.

Harry shifted nervously. "What kind of plans? I mean, I didn't do anything so terribly…"

Crabbe shot Harry a murderous look.

"Ok," Harry said, "so I did something pretty stupid, but that's no excuse for Ron to…I mean he wouldn't…he doesn't even like Mal—Damnit _I'm_ his best friend!"

"Ron's a good guy, he cares that you hurt Draco."

"Of course he does," Harry said mournfully. "Do you think I'll get out of this without a black eye?"

Crabbe regarded Harry seriously. "You might," he allowed.

Harry sighed and ducked his head. "Vin," he said. "I'm sorry about hurting Draco. I didn't know that his spine was…"

"You never bothered to ask," Vin hissed. "Draco tried, he was in the war. He was going to—he did betray his family. No one ever bothered to ask what he did, what price he paid in the war."

"Everyone paid a price, Vin. It's not exactly a subject you bring up."

"Yeah, because you already knew what everyone you cared about had given up. You're a nice guy Harry, but you're bloody dense. Your circle of friends aren't the only people who were damaged."

Harry looked at Crabbe disgustedly. "You think I don't know that? I ruined plenty of lives Vin and I'm not proud. I just thought I had enough guilt, so I stopped asking what the fact that I _lived_ did to ruin everyone's lives. I'm sorry I wasn't repentant enough for you." Harry grimaced disgustedly—when had he become so 'woe is me'?

Crabbe stopped walking and turned towards Harry. He pulled the resisting boy into his arms and hugged tightly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't think. I've no room to call you thick," he said.

Harry sighed, he was having trouble breathing with his head shoved into Crabbe's shoulder. "Itf omk Vimf. Vimf?" he said, peeking over the shoulder. "Vimf wehyr whe…"

"What?" Crabbe said.

Harry pulled back and straightened his glasses. "I said, well I tried to say, it's ok. And then… why're we at the Room of Requirement?"

Crabbe smiled evilly. "That's for me to know and you to find out. You should close your eyes," he said, as he pulled out a blindfold. "Or this is going to irritate your cornea."

Harry jerked away from him. "What? Nonono—no blindfolds."

"Harry, play along. I don't wanna haveta rough you up."

"I'm very uncomfortable with this." Harry said, sulking, but submitting to Crabbe's placement of the blindfold.

"No more uncomfortable than I am having to blindfold you out in the hall where anyone could witness it."

Harry laughed. "What, are you afraid they'll think you've got a little hanky panky planned for us, honey?"

"Harryyy," Crabbe warned.

"What sweetums? I hope there's chocolate sauce and whipped cream in there," Harry sing-songed.

Crabbe hastily tied a knot in the blindfold and shoved him towards the door. He opened the door and put a hand on Harry's back to lead him into the room. Harry reached out and pinched Crabbe on the ass on the way in.

"Potter!" Crabbe bellowed.

Harry snickered as he walked carefully forward into the room.

* * *

_Earlier in the Room of Requirement…_

"Ron, I don't see how this is going to help anything."

"Draco, come on, you have to trust me. I told you I could make everything better and I will."

"I do trust you, and can I say the premise of this room is really cool—but there's nothing in here. What good is _this_ room going to do me and Harry? I mean I get the bed, and that's a bit optimistic don't you think? But, what is the table for?"

Ron shuffled. "There was something sitting on the table, that's all. Maybe more things will appear there if you and Harry need them."

Draco's eyebrow rose of it's own volition. "What _was_ on the table?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing." Ron's grin was over-wide.

"You're not fooling me, Weasley. You've got something dastardly planned."

"Of course not Draco. I wouldn't do anything horrible to Harry."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Or you," Ron added.

"Riiiight. Well what is the big plan? Are we just going to stand in here and wait? 'Cause he's just going to run away when he sees me in here. You didn't see his face…"

"Draco, we've been through this. He was not disgusted with you."

Draco nodded.

"But just in case," Ron said. "We're going to wait in the dark, and you're going to wear a blindfold."

"What! No! I'm not…" Draco looked thoughtful. "This, er, this wasn't just some scheme to get me alone in here—blindfolded on a bed—with you … was it Weasley?"

"Ewh Malfoy, no. Ugh."

Draco scoffed. "I am not an ewh or an ugh. Besides, with your new love connection with my godfather, I thought you'd decided all boys were a good thing. I mean a boy like me can't be too careful about leaving himself vulnerable to horny little attacks. I'll have you know they happen three or four times a week, and it's only by the grace of God that I've not been molested repeatedly since I was detached from Potter. I'm in _high_ demand."

Ron laughed. "Are you done? Honestly Malfoy, if there's ever a shortage of ego in England…"

Draco huffed and carefully placed the blindfold so as to show his hair off to best advantage. He tied it, and then held out his hands. "Voila," he said. "Now what?"

Ron smirked evilly, but it was wasted because there was no one to see it. "Now," he said, "we turn off the lights and wait in the dark." He grabbed on to Draco's upper arm and whispered the words to turn off the light, just as they heard Crabbe and Harry arrive outside.

"_Harryyy," _they heard Crabbe say.

_"What sweetums? I hope there's chocolate sauce and whipped cream in there," Harry sing-songed._

The door opened and Ron saw the outline of Harry as he entered the room. Walking Draco forward as silently as possible, he removed the secret item from his pocket.

"_Potter!" Crabbe bellowed. _

"Ok!" Ron shouted. "Now!"

Crabbe pushed Harry and Ron pushed Draco until they collided, stomach to stomach, knee cap to knee cap, nose to painful bonk in the nose. Then Ron used the secret item and there was a metallic rustling, followed by a series of clicks. Ron cackled gleefully, and Crabbe reinstated the lights.

"What the hell have you done Weasley!" Draco shouted, trying to yank his arm away from whoever was in front of him—presumably Potter.

Harry giggled uncontrollably; he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Ron and Crabbe dodged Draco's grasping hands and exited the room, locking it behind them. In the hall they both burst into laughter and were required to hold on to each other to keep from falling on their faces.

"Harry?" Draco said. "Harry, please stop laughing and tell me what's going on. I'm sorry about earlier, but just please tell me what's going on." Draco's voice was quiet and panicky, it sobered Harry immediately.

"It's ok Malfoy," he said. "Ron's just hooked us back together again."

Gingerly Harry reached up with his free hand and pulled his blindfold and then Draco's off. Draco looked down at their now conjoined wrists in bemusement. "What did he do that for?" he asked. "What is this thing?"

"They're called handcuffs. I guess he thought that was the best way to make us talk to each other," Harry said. "And what do you mean you're _sorry_ about earlier?"

"I uh, well I'm sorry about…forcing you into…"

"Draco, _I_ kissed _you_"

"Yes, I know, but I seduced you and you were so …I mean…afterwards…"

"Draco stop," Harry said, raising his free hand. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I was just—I was horrified that—Why were you crying?"

"Because it hurt. You see, I have this injury…"

Harry waved him off. "I know, at least—I know _now_, Remus told me. Why didn't you just tell me earlier? That time that I hit you in the hall outside the kitchens…oh god—you said it was a problem from the war. I didn't even question…" Harry looked thoughtful. "We had just said we would try to be friends and I didn't even care what might be wrong. I was so worried, that you were going to be separated from me again and hate me again and I didn't even bother to act like the friend I was so worried you wouldn't want and…"

"Harry please—stop babbling," Draco said. "We've done the post-mortem on that misunderstanding. Can we move on?"

Harry faltered. "Uhm, yes—I guess so," Harry said. "What comes next?"

"Why did you look so …horrified?"

Harry gave him a 'duh' look. "You were crying. I thought I'd done something…I thought you were…can't we call this conversation over too? It was just another misunderstanding. I thought you were crying because of the kiss and … I dunno... in horror."

Draco nodded. "That one is dead too. Next."

"Right," Harry said. "Next…"

"You know it really is so much easier to talk to you when you can't run away," Draco said, grinning slyly.

Harry lifted their joined hands and grinned. "I kinda like that you can't get away from me too."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Should I categorize that as a threat?"

Harry's grin became devious. "That depends on what you are afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of you, Potter." Draco scoffed.

"Oh really? Well, maybe we should have this conversation sitting down."

Draco's breath sped up marginally. "We should sit?" he asked.

"I think so," Harry said. "I'm quite tired."

"Tired?"

Harry smiled slowly. "I'm tired of standing," he said.

"Right," Draco nodded, and they moved over to the bed. "I could do with some sitting."

Harry laughed. "Well here we are. Are we going to sit?"

Draco snorted. "Of course we're going to sit. We walked over here to sit, so we're going to sit."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Of course we're going to sit," he said.

"So lets sit then," Draco rolled his eyes at himself.

Harry sighed. "Count of three then?"

"No! Three's very unlucky."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Count of five?"

"That's better."

Harry's lips twitched upward but he quickly got them under control. "Okay then. 1, 2, 3…"

Draco flopped gracelessly onto the bed, and yanked on the handcuffs to pull Harry down with him.

"Oi, Blondie," Harry said. "We go through this big hoop-la about three being unlucky and then you just flop on three? Are you trying to tell me something?"

Draco giggled. "Like what?"

Harry's voice turned serious. "Like that maybe we're doomed?"

"Doomed in what way?"

Harry shifted nervously. "Like, our friendship—that we agreed to have. Do you think we can't be friends?"

"Of course we can be friends. We're not doomed from being friends." Draco frowned unhappily. Was this Potter's way of telling him that he didn't want to kiss again? That he didn't want anything but friendship from Draco?

"Are we er..." Harry mumbled. "Are we doomed to be friends?"

Raising up on his elbows, Draco glared down at Harry. "Doomed to be friends! If that's how you feel about me Potter then you shouldn't nancy around it. Just tell me that you don't like me and don't want to have to deal with me and we can have this done."

Harry covered his face with his hands, causing Draco's hand to flop against the side of his face; Draco yanked it away angrily and ended up smacking himself in the chest with Harry's floppy hand.

Harry took a deep breath and put on his most sincere face. "I meant—that's not what I meant. _I_ meant was there any hope for that…_other_…the er, you know—from the bathroom?"

Draco snorked, then he giggled, then he guffawed. "Is there any hope for that stuff from the bathroom?" he cackled. "I think not! Though, I'm sure it goes to its own little waste heaven in the ground…so perhaps that's hopeful for it. Better than living in us I reckon…though it is at least able to travel around with us. Once it's out there's really no way for it to…"

Harry smacked Draco really really hard in the back of the head, Draco continued to giggle, but at least he stopped talking.

"You know what I meant," Harry hissed, surprised at how upset he was.

Draco glanced up at Harry's flushed, angry face. "Sorry Harry, it's ill-timed humor—nervous habit."

Harry inclined his head and stared at the lovely pink color beginning to take over Draco's face. "What are you nervous about?" he asked.

Draco gestured between them with their connected hands. "This of course. You, me, being connected together, being together."

Harry sneered. "We'll be able to get apart soon, then we can kill Ron. Hey! Let's handcuff him to Snape!"

"Oh my god, that's the best idea that you've ever gotten into that deformed head of yours."

Harry flopped their hands over onto Draco's stomach, playfully smacking it. "Deformed am I?" Their hands remained resting on Draco's belly. Draco glanced down at them.

"I'm nervous about this," Draco said. "I'm so afraid you'll be gone tomorrow. Why is that? A couple of days ago I was fine without you around. Now, when you're not with me and we're not happy with each other, I fidget , I always feel like there's something I should be doing. Like, that I should be working to make things ok between us, so that I can be happy again."

Harry smiled. "The whole time I was talking to Remus I kept wishing he'd just shut-up or order me to come back to you so that I could calm that same urge."

Draco put a hand over Harry's on his stomach. "Potter, I want us to be together—like boyfriends."

Harry snickered a little. "Boyfriends? Isn't that a bit…I dunno…gay?"

"Of course it's gay! We're gay! Boys on boys, it's gay—Harry."

"I meant gay as in stupid."

"You shouldn't say that. It's rude."

Harry sighed. "Fine. Doesn't calling us boyfriends sound stupid and poncy?"

Draco raised a warning eyebrow at the term poncy, but let it go—as it was all around derogatory. "Well what else would we call ourselves?"

"What's wrong with friends?"

Draco squeezed Harry's hand. "Wouldn't we be more than friends?"

Harry thought that his stomach could possibly drop through the bed if his clothes weren't holding him together. "I would uhm, like that," he said.

Draco rolled onto his side and leaned over Harry. "Me too," he said, grinning lustily.

"So what would that make us?"

"Lovers?" Draco suggested.

Harry turned the most delightful color. "Well, I mean we're not exactly."

"Not yet." Draco giggled at the horrified look on Harry's face. "Harry, you'd think by that look that you didn't want to be my lover," he teased.

"I-well-uhm, I mean—er, I do. I mean I do at, well at some point and…but not of course…not _now_." Harry glanced around the room. "Not here! This room uhm, it gives me the wiggins. Uhm…"

Draco giggled. "I don't think you're sure what you mean at all, but you should relax, I'm nowhere near ready either."

"Oh thank God," Harry breathed.

"However," Draco said, lowering himself so that he was half-on half-off of Harry, straddling one thigh. "I wouldn't be adverse to some uh—trial runs…" He blushed fiercely.

Harry turned his head away and laughed nervously. "That sounds…oh bugger. I uh." He turned his head back and looked into Draco's grey eyes that were moist and bright with amusement. He reached up tentatively and worked his fingers into Draco's hair, pulling his head down to his own.

Draco smiled, Harry was so embarrassed that he looked almost nauseous. He hadn't been like that in the bathroom—but then laying down was an entirely different thing. Finally, finally Harry was pulling them closer—taking some initiative. But just as abruptly he stopped, a horrified look on his face.

"What?" Draco asked. Damnit, he wanted that kiss! Once you start to move closer it's a promise and to break that promise should be punishable by death.

"What should I not do? I don't want to hurt you again…I—." Harry's hands left Draco and fell down to the bed.

Draco sighed. "Just don't crush my back into you quite so hard. I'm not fragile, Harry, just not as…bendy as I used to be." Draco winked.

Harry swallowed and nodded, trying to return his hands to Draco's hair, but he was being seriously impeded by the cuffs. Sheepishly he looked up at Draco as he closed one hand around the cuffs and whispered a word that made them disappear. Draco looked at him with shock across his face.

"Can we er, not talk about it right now?" Harry said. "I promise I'll tell you all about—all of that—later?"

Draco nodded furiously. Where was his kiss damnit?

Smiling broadly, Harry re-threaded his fingers into Draco's white hair and managed to pull him all the way into a kiss this time. Draco sighed contentedly and rubbed Harry's side in a languid petting motion. They kissed softly, sweetly, neither of them doing more than pressing into the other one, then Harry opened his mouth and Draco slid in his tongue to lick along the roof of Harry's mouth. Harry laughed a little at the tickling sensation and worked his hands underneath Draco's shirt—trailing them lightly up his sides. Draco squirmed and giggled slightly.

Pulling back from the kiss Draco searched Harry's eyes, watching them carefully as he deliberately ground down onto Harry's thigh. He saw the eyes widen and suffuse with pleasure and lust, and took it as tacit permission to grind his own thigh into Harry's groin. Harry inhaled and smiled a lazy, happy smile as Draco worked them in tandem. Harry's hands stayed busy beneath Draco's shirt as he slid them around and alternately rubbed and tickled and massaged whatever skin he could find—or think about long enough to consider. As it was, his mind was going blissfully blank as he approached his climax—save for one overriding thought that he must be kissing Draco, and he must do it now so that they could be as connected as possible when they came. He reached up and jerked Draco's head to his, belatedly hoping that it didn't hurt him, and slammed their mouths together in a fierce kiss—shoving his tongue into Draco's mouth and rubbing the tongue he found there in time with the grinding thrust of Draco's hips. Draco moaned deep in his chest and thrust erratically as they both reached their summits. Exhausted, Draco collapsed where he lay on top of Harry. Harry smiled a deeply contented smile as he wound his arms around Draco and pulled him into his body even closer. He knew then that he would never be able to get Draco close enough to him, but that it would be immensely fun to try.

They were startled out of their bliss by a hammering on the door.

"Bugger off!" Harry screamed, shocked to find his voice very low and a little hoarse.

Draco giggled.

"Harry you have to come out here!" Ron shouted. "Remus has gone!"

Harry sat up straight in the bed, Draco fell to one side. No, he thought, this can't be. This can't happen when everything was finally starting to feel solid…


	14. Where is my werewolf!

* * *

Ron was banging on the door with all his might but the two utter pillocks inside weren't answering him. "Harrrryyyy Hhaaarryyy," he screamed—while Crabbe screamed for Malfoy. Professors Snape and Dumbledore looked decidedly _un_amused.

"What, pray tell, are Misters Malfoy and Potter doing in the Room of Requirement that it won't allow us to open the door?" Snape asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore coughed into his hand, and Snape turned a rancid shade of puce.

Crabbe looked thoughtful. "I didn't know that you were gay headmaster," he said.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose into his bushy hair. "What on earth did you think I was then? I mean, I try so hard with my wardrobe and my eccentricities to make it _perfectly_ clear that there is no way that I'm not…"

"Albus," Snape said. "I think it's more important that we get going right now, then worry about misunderstandings of your diva-hood."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes you're absolutely right. Do try the door again Mr. Weasley. They're quite young and they can't possibly last long. Especially with make-up sex—I mean is there anything that—"

"Headmaster!" Snape bellowed.

Dumbledore, chastised, examined his socks.

Ron hammered on the door and bellowed Harry's name again and finally, _finally_, there was an answer.

"_Bugger off!" Harry screamed._

_"Harry you have to come out here!" Ron shouted. "Remus has gone!"_

Ron heard shuffling and one loud thump before the door was thrown open. Framed in the doorway was a very disheveled Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter sat on his ass on the floor beside the bed.

"What…?" Ron began.

Draco waved one hand imperially at him. "He fell, doesn't matter. What is all this about the werewolf?"

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a glance.

Snape spoke in Harry's direction. "Against my advice Remus has decided to make one more foolhardy attempt at getting your dogfather back. He tried to sneak in to the Department of Mysteries, but he's being held by unspeakables until we get there. I would recommend we get there fast. They are called unspeakables for a reason."

Harry jumped up and headed for the door.

Ron coughed. "Ahem, barn door...barn door."

Glancing down, Harry blushed and turned his back to the door while he pulled up his zipper.

Snape rolled his eyes. "It is quite obvious to everyone here what the two of you were doing. Being embarrassed by what you've done only proves that you weren't fit to do it…" Snape trailed off as his eyes alit on the tube of lube sitting on the table. He flushed a bright burnt orange.

Draco noticed where his glance lay. "No worries professor, we didn't get to that." Snape sighed in relief. "Didn't have time—for that matter, didn't even see it sitting there in our haste," Draco added. Snape the chameleon regained his puce coloring from earlier.

Dumbledore laughed. "Next time," he said cheerfully, "next time."

Harry and Draco exchanged a sickly glance and smiled feebly at the headmaster.

"Uhm… er. Yes, headmaster." Harry said awkwardly.

Crabbe chortled.

Draco looked at Harry, who shrugged. Draco rolled his eyes.

"We should, er…get going," Ron said, though how he had the presence of mind to talk no one was sure; he looked red enough to spontaneously combust.

"Yes, by all means let us retreat form this…scene," Snape snarled.

* * *

At the Department of Mysteries Remus sat on the floor, woefully sobbing into his robes. Albus patted him softly on the shoulder and shushed the worst of his crying while Harry, Draco, Crabbe, Ron, and Snape went through the extensive security checks.

"Remus?" Harry tentatively asked, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

Remus burst into fresh sobs, and chokingly spoke through them. "I'm so sorry Harry. I—it's not that I want to leave you. I just can't keep on going without him! I tried for a year, for a whole year I tried to let him go and move on. Well, I sort of tried. I just can't." Remus looked up. "He's taken everything with him, Harry, everything important except for you. Every thread that held me to this world snapped when he fell."

Harry glanced at Draco and nodded solemnly. "That's why you have to try again. I won't do without either of you, I want you both back. Do you hear?"

Remus shook his head sadly. "I can't do it, Harry. The spell…I realized when I got here that it wouldn't work. I'd never be able to get us back through the veil without my magic."

Harry scrunched his nose. "Your magic?"

Remus sighed. "The spell requires you to funnel your magic into a lifeline that you should then be able to follow out of the veil, a little like Hansel and Gretel's bread crumbs, but as a werewolf my magic is—damaged anyway. The end of the spell would most likely suck the rest of it into the veil when it closed. It wouldn't work, I can feel it. Harry, it would pull me back before I could find him, and then I'd have to live in this world without my magic. I'm too weak to do that, even for Sirius. I'm not worth him."

Harry grimaced. "I'll do the lifeline for you."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

Harry glanced over at him. "You know that I can do it headmaster. In fact, it probably wouldn't hurt me to lose some magic. You know howmuch I carry with me."

Dumbledore nodded. "If you wish to do this, I do not think it would harm you to do it."

Snape and Draco were wearing identical thunderous frowns.

"Harry," Draco said. "What the bloody hell are all of you talking about?"

"Long or short version?" Harry asked.

Draco appeared to be considering it.

"Short. Concise. Brief." Snape snarked.

Harry drew a breath. "I absorb other people's magic when they die near me."

Snape and Draco now wore 'huh?' faces.

"It's… what I do. Some sort of evolutionary quirk in my bloodline. It's how I survived the killing curse, how I killed Voldemort. My little…er…outbursts," Harry nervously glanced at Dumbledore who was smiling at him benignly, "my little outbursts are because of how many people died around me in the war. I just kept absorbing more and more and more until I can't really control some of it now."

Snape glared at Dumbledore. "You let me punish him for this? How many times have I given him detention for…wait. I don't care." Snape shook his head disgustedly at himself. Harry laughed lightly.

"My dear Severus," Dumbledore said. "You can see how this would go if I told people willy-nilly about Harry's talent. They would be terrified of him."

"No doubt," Draco said.

Harry glanced at him worriedly.

"Oh, but I'm not," he said. "It's just if they die right?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"That's all right then," Draco said.

"What do you say then Remus?" Harry asked.

"Harry," he said warily. "I will most likely not return--even with your help. It will be the fourth try and," Remus glanced at Snape. "I will most likely not be able to be revived. I had not _really_ thought to...return."

Harry shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

"I won't, Harry. I won't be _just fine_ if I go, and I won't go and leave you alone."

Harry looked over at Draco and Ron and Crabbe, and lastly Dumbledore. "I'm not at all alone," he said, his gaze resting on Draco. "Especially not now." Draco smiled at him.

Remus looked surprised, and pleased--but his voice still held some worry. "I don't know, Harry--"

"I will be your lifeline," Harry said."You go and bring Siri back."

Remus smirked. "Are you my phone home or my poll the audience?"

Harry grinned. "Phone home. Phone home," he said in a nasal voice.

The others looked at each other confusedly. Dumbledore shrugged.

Remus struggled to his feet and stood in front of the veil, hardness etched into the lines of his face. "You brought the potion, Severus?" he said, glancing over his shoulder at Snape.

Snape held up the small vial of blue liquid in his hand and shook it slightly. "Right here, half-breed."

Remus smiled. "Here I go then. I love you all," he said. Then glanced back nervously. "Well I mean, those of you that I actually know," he said, gesturing to the unspeakables gathered at the back of the room.

Harry extended his hand and laid it on Remus' back. He said the spell that would connect the lifeline and pulled back, a shiny purple line of magic connecting him to Remus.

When Remus glanced back to see it Harry smiled at him reassuringly. "I've got you, Remus. Please find him," he said.

Remus nodded, and stepped forward—disappearing into the veil. Again, Harry was sure he heard noises through the curtain.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure, but it felt like it had been an hour since Remus had disappeared. His arm was getting tired and, believe it or not, so was his magic. Glancing down at his watch he realized it had only been fifteen minutes. He glanced over at the others.

Dumbledore had a vaguely worried look on his face, and his eyes were glued on the curtains. Draco likewise wore worried look, but it was fixed on Harry. Harry smiled wanly at him. Snape's eyes were fixed on the purple line of magic that disappeared into the nether worlds, his look was less discernable—but Harry wanted to call it worried as well. Then just like that, the lifeline snapped.

For a minute at least, Harry stared at his hand in shock. He'd been pouring everything he had into that connection, and something inside the veil had broken it.

"Damnit," Snape cursed. "I knew that wouldn't work."

"Wha?" Harry asked.

Frustrated, Snape sighed. "It has to be about true love, Harry. True love is the only thing that can bring people back from the dead. And though I'm sure that you love the mutts, they're not your soul mates."

Draco walked over and wove his fingers into Harry's. Harry stared at him; Draco leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"No, I uh—they're not of course. Ewh," Harry said. "But, why didn't you tell me…"

"Well it might have worked," Snape pouted. "I know you're a powerful wizard. I might have…" Snape's face twisted in disgust. "I might have believed you could do anything—there for a minute."

Harry couldn't help it, he smirked.

Snape stalked over to the pair and grunted his disgust. He pulled off his robe and revealed a thin cord attached to his waist. He held out the vial of blue liquid to Draco. "There is plenty more of this in the big cauldron in my workroom. Do you understand me?" Snape asked.

Draco nodded, tears forming in his eyes. He quickly hugged Snape. "The dogs will need two doses, I will need one. Clear?" Snape asked. Draco nodded again.

Snape glanced at Harry with softness in his eyes. "Don't you _dare_ tell anyone I did this. Is that understood, Potter?" he said. Harry dumbly nodded, and threw his arms around Snape.

Snape walked back over to Dumbledore and handed him the end of the cord. He hugged him, then said. "No more than fifteen minutes."

Dumbledore nodded, and wrapped the cord around his wrist.

Snape walked over to the veil and studied the curtains. He fingered the cord at his waist thoughtfully. "I do love them," he said, almost to himself—and stepped through.

Harry hid his face in Draco's shoulder, and Draco buried his in Harry's hair. Dumbledore's face was ice hard and cold as he stared at the rope; his skin shockingly white where the cord wound around his arm and bit into it.

* * *


	15. Entrances and Exits

There's some illegal use of portkeys in this chapter. I _know_ this isn't how they work, but it was too hard to make everyone touch them.

* * *

After a minute Harry's head rose from Draco's shoulder. His face held a slightly bemused look, coupled with an undercurrent of confusion.

"Draco?" Harry asked.

Draco was taken aback that Harry had collected himself so quickly; it was somewhat troubling.

"Yes?" he said.

"Draco," Harry was practically giggling, and Draco's frown deepened. "Did Snape just say that he loved _them_?" Now Harry did let himself go, and burst into frantic laughter.

Draco made his ick face. "Erm, yes, I believe he did," he said, and patted Harry on the back as he listened to him complain about how much Snape _hated_ his godfathers and how _silly_ it was that he would love them, and how the whole premise was hopelessly flawed.

"What _is_ it with everyone lately?" Harry said, calming.

Draco nodded, "We've gotten so gay," he said with dismay.

Dumbledore chuckled, but was careful to maintain his grip on the rope. "It's just that time of year, my boy."

Harry gave Draco a look that said _he's the craziest bastard I hope I'll ever know_.

Draco nodded solemnly. "I, uh, guess that's it, sir," he said to Dumbledore. Harry rolled his eyes and Draco shrugged off his lameness.

Harry flopped down onto the floor and stared at the veil where the last of his hopes for a family life had disappeared minutes ago. He felt a bit like brooding, but it wasn't really a part of his nature and he wasn't sure what he should brood about. Perhaps that he'd not been able to hold on to Remus—that should be enough to angst him out for a good long while. Except, he had been uninformed about what was required to hold on to someone in the veil, and surely all those around him (perhaps excepting Draco, Ron, and Crabbe) _had_ known and hadn't told him—so that one wasn't his fault. Perhaps he should angst about his future with Draco…but that was really too horny a place to go right now in his mind. Nope, as far as he was concerned there was no angst on the horizon there. What else was there to worry about? Dumbledore seemed to have the rope thing in hand, no pun intended, and Draco was doing the supportive boyfriend thing amazingly well, and to be honest he couldn't care enough about Snape to worry about him all _that_ much. Harry sighed—he was depressed, there really should be _something_ for him to get in a funk about.

Finally, somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the sound of sobbing. He turned about, eager to exercise his heroic urges and rescue or comfort whoever was in distress—only to be confronted by the scene of an amused but concerned Crabbe holding on to a sobbing Ron. Harry snorted.

"But I think he could have at least loooookeeeeed at meeeeee!" Ron wailed. There was all that stuff about 'good job' and and and…" The rest of Ron's complaint was incomprehensible.

"Shhh, Ron," Crabbe cooed. "It's all right. He didn't say goodbye because he knew that he'd be back. And really, he was in a hurry…I'm sure that he knew it would take a very long time to say what he wanted to say to you and he didn't want to risk the scene and ruin his attempt to rescue the others. You're really very important to him. He thanked you and everything! That has to be rare, doesn't it?" Crabbe soothed.

Ron snorked, sniffed, and wiped his nose. "Yeah, I guess so," he said with a somewhat brave face that immediately crumpled. "But he didn't even bother to _look_ in our direction. And Crabbe," Ron whispered, "He said he _loved_ them!"

"Yes," Crabbe struggled to allay this new fear. "But he's very awful to them all the time, almost as awful as he is to you—and if he loves them that much, then think of how much he must love you."

Ron shoved back from Crabbe's soothing arms, his ick face firmly in place. "I don't want him to love _me_!" he yelled, scandalized.

Crabbe sighed and threw his arms up in disgust. "Then what do you want Weasley? You're babbling and leaking like a baby, spit it out!"

"Yes do, my boy," Dumbledore said. "You're ruining my concentration, and if you make me lose Severus to the veil I'll make sure there will be less little redheaded children running around in the future."

Ron cocked an eyebrow as he tried to figure out the threat. When it dawned, he looked to Harry for protection. Harry waved a hand at him indifferently, a gesture that meant 'shut-up' as surely as it didn't say 'please'.

Ron sobbed and threw his arms back around Crabbe, who shifted anxiously. "Uh, Weasley?" he said. "Do you think we could stop hugging now?"

Ron pulled back and looked at him with utmost shock and surprise. "No!" he said. "Absolutely not! I'm dist_ress_ed. I need _com_fort."

Crabbe nodded, resigned.

"Draco?" Harry said. "Why aren't you more distressed about your godpappy going through the veil?"

Draco smirked. "He'll be back," he said. "I'm sure he prepared thoroughly for this eventuality."

Harry gave Draco the bug-eyes, but let it rest.

"Headmaster?" Harry questioned. "How long has it been?"

Dumbledore cast a scathing glance. "How the hell should I know," he said. "I'm a wizard. I don't wear a watch."

The color drained from Harry's face and he began to fidget uncontrollably. Draco looked a little pale as well.

"What do you _mean_ you don't _know_?" Ron wailed from the folds of Crabbe's robe.

"If I may," a voice piped up from the back of the room. "It's been 20 minutes."

"Thanks a lot Mortimer," Dumbledore snarked.

Mortimer McSneads, Unspeakable for twenty years, bowed and took his place in wizarding history.

"Headmaster!" Harry shrieked. "What are you waiting for? Pull them back! It's been too long!"

"Don't yell at me," Dumbledore sulked. Pouting, he tugged on the rope but came up short; he couldn't budge it. Sighing, he walked over to the boys. "You're all going to have to help me," he sighed.

Harry and Draco grabbed on, and Ron behind them; Crabbe played anchor.

"On the count of forty then," Dumbledore said.

Harry glanced back at the others and rolled his eyes. He mouthed the numbers 3…2…1, and all the boys heaved on the rope.

Dumbledore landed on his ass, and scowled at them from the floor. "Forty, is the tradition," he said.

The curtains of the veil twitched as the boys pulled and once again voices emerged.

"Pull your bloody weight, Snivellus. Do you want to make us lose?" one voice said.

"Of course I want us to bloody lose you brainless twit!" came Snape's unmistakable drawl.

"Moooonyyyy," the first voice whined. "Old Snives is going to make us _lose_, make him stop it."

"Honestly darling," Remus said. "We _want_ to lose this time."

"What?" Sirius sounded scandalized.

"Yes," Remus said patiently. "We want to be pulled through these curtains, so that you can see Harry again. We talked about this...remember? Let's just throw this game, ok? Before those others come back. I don't like them luv, we should leave."

"They won't be happy about that, will they?" Sirius asked, his voice small. "I'm not sure that we should make them unhappy—they haven't been that bad to me and…"

"God damnit Black!" Snape shouted.

Harry heard a scuffle and some curses and then the rope went slack in their hands. Behind him he heard Ron wail, and a resounding smack as Draco took his turn dealing with him. There was another smack, probably Crabbe smacking Draco for his use of excessive force, and then a final thud—which was probably the collision of Ron and the floor as he tried to get out of the middle of the other two.

"Would you fucking stop it?" Harry shrieked. "Look!" he said.

All three boys leaned around the forms of Harry and Dumbledore and took in the sight on the floor in front of the veil.

All three men lay on the floor, dead. Time ground to a halt. The Unspeakables that had clustered at the back of the room inched forward until they formed a semi-circle around the five rope holders and the three men on the floor. Harry blinked, taking mental pictures of his godfathers and Snape embraced in death. Dumbledore was the first to spring into action. He yelled to two of the unspeakables to help him and he and they rushed over to the bodies, each touching one, and Dumbledore touched a portkey on his ring. They were gone.

The boys were left in the Department of Mysteries with Mortimer and the other Unspeakables. They all stood around staring at the veil, then the floor, and then each other.

A blonde Unspeakable in the back of the semi-circle huffed. "Ok," he said. "Can I just get a poll here of how many of us thought that was really gonna work? Show of hands…"

"Draco!" Ron shouted. Draco winced.

"Ron!" he shouted back.

Ron took no notice. "The potion! We've got to get back to Hogwarts so that you can administer the potion."

Draco laughed. "As if a teenager, a student, is the only one with the presence of mind to give them the potion? Honestly Weasley, anyone can do it—they don't need me."

"But," he said. "But Snape gave you the vial and the instructions…"

Draco shrugged. "He had to say something to me, I'm his godson. If he'd buggered off and not given me some sort of memento it woulda just been rude."

Crabbe nodded. "Too true," he said.

Harry sighed. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and took the top off it. "Group hug!" he announced.

The other three looked at him warily, but complied. When they were all touching, he tipped the portkey into his hand, and they too were headed back to Hogwarts.

Snape was already awake and spitting nails when they got to the hospital wing. "I didn't _mean_ that Headmaster, I assure you," Snape said.

"But, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "I distinctly heard you say…"

"Psh tosh," Snape said. "Don't be ridiculous."

Dumbledore grinned a Cheshire smile, but gave up that line of questioning.

Remus was groaning and thrashing around the bed, and Snape shouted orders at Madam Pomfrey that she rushed to obey. Harry couldn't hear any of it; it was like he was under fifty feet of water staring up at the scene in front of him. He felt Remus' magic leaving his body; Harry could feel his own body begin to absorb it. It pulled a gut-wrenching sob from him and he gasped in physical pain at the implications. He had them here, on the right side of the veil, and he was still going to lose them. Because, truth be known—he felt a drain coming from the man in the bed beside Remus' as well, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him.

Draco glanced over and reached for Harry's hand, but the moment he touched it he jerked his own back in shock. Harry's hand was burning and sparking with magic. Draco took a step backwards; there were tiny shocks of magic crawling all over Harry's skin. Dumbledore noticed as well, and his face grew grave. He laid a hand on Severus' arm and pointed at Harry. Snape's lips went thin and white. Harry's whole body was also shaking, and he was heaving breaths through his mouth. Tears fell from his eyes but were quickly zapped by the errant magic and turned into crystals and gems and flower petals and any number of other things; they landed in a pile at Harry's feet.

"Poppy!" Snape shouted. "Another dose, give them another dose quickly, and get a sedative for Harry. Hurry!" he growled when she just stared at Harry in shock.

Harry glanced over at Snape and smiled a weak grin. He held up a hand to Madame Pomfrey and simply said, "No, it's too late." He glanced over at Draco and offered him a half-smile as well. _I'm ok_, he mouthed. Draco nodded, and took in a ragged breath.

Standing at the feet of his godfathers' beds, Harry lifted a hand and made the beds come together side by side. The men's hands touched and joined. Harry summoned the vial of potion from Madam Pomfrey's hand and poured another dose down each man's throat, shrugging his shoulders when Snape gave him a questioning look; he had to try. Both men lay quietly, their magic a leaky faucet that Harry soaked up like a sponge.

Harry summoned a chair and sat at the end of their beds, examining their faces—taking in their last moments. He felt them through their magic, and they were happy. He almost thought that he could hear them bickering like they used to, and he was glad that wherever they were going wasn't going to be all sunshine and butterflies—because really…how boring would that be? Their love flowed through him, and into him, and he communicated his love and well-being to them as much as he knew how. Then they were gone.

Harry had always been good at quiet grief, and he displayed it now. His eyes closed, and his brow furrowed, his hands came up to cover his face—but no sound passed his lips. Draco walked upto the back of the chair and risked laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry looked around and gave him a teary smile. He covered the hand on his shoulder with one of his own, and tilted his head to rest on them.

* * *


	16. Gone?

Harry was shocked when he walked outside, to realize that it was still winter. Everything that had happened—had changed his life, his mind, and his _world_—had happened in less than a week. Closing his eyes he twirled around once, reveling in the cold air. Opening them again he saw Draco regarding him warily. Harry knew that they needed to have a conversation, but it would have to wait until after the pyre.

On a cliff by the lake his godfather's awaited his, and a large chunk of the wizarding population's, arrival—in order to begin their final send-off. For a moment Harry mused on the unlikely-hood of such a turn out. Who were his godfathers that so many people would know them? After all, Remus had been shunned in life, and Sirius was an escaped convict. The thought flickered into his mind that they must be showing up because of their connection to him, the savior, and Harry was instantly ashamed. Many people loved and admired his godfathers; he didn't have the monopoly on it. His grief was threatening his reason.

Beside him Draco silently offered as much of himself as he could in his unsure state, and Harry was grateful for him. He reached out and took his hand, silently asking approval to announce them to the world. Draco ducked his head and smiled wickedly, giving a slight nod.

Harry would be lighting the pyre. For a minute, as they crested the hill on which it stood, a monument of broken tree limbs and broken bodies—Harry thought that it might already be on fire. But no, it was just the Weasley family; he grinned broadly—how had he ever thought that without Remus he would be alone in the world? He gave Draco's hand a squeeze, and led them towards the group.

"Good morning, Harry." Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry nodded in greeting, and hugged each of the surviving Weasley children, Ron last of all. Harry and Ron hugged for a long time, and when they pulled back Ron glanced over to Draco.

"Hey, Malfoy," Ron said mildly. The rest of his family raised eyebrows in surprise; they had done no more than nod to Draco.

Draco smiled softly. "'Lo, Weasley," he said.

Ron grinned and enveloped Draco in a crushing hug that took care not to crush the wrong part of his back. Draco sighed into the hug, and Harry felt a small spark of jealousy that made him smile at himself.

"Oi," Harry said, "give that back, Weasel."

Mrs. Weasley burst into laughter, and her children regarded her worriedly. She chuckled and gathered Harry and Draco into an enormous hug. Draco sighed again; how had he ever thought all this hugging was pansy-ish? It was wonderful.

Words were said, remembrances noted, smiles smiled, laughs enjoyed, and a fire was lit.

Harry chose to do it his way, as would befit a wizard of his power. He grasped Draco's hand; wordlessly saying he would not hide things again. Draco smiled, but extricated his hand from Harry's. He kissed him on the cheek and pushed him towards the pyre. Harry nodded, he understood that he needed to stand alone. He walked up to Sirius' body and kissed its cheek, then to Remus' and did the same. Then he stood in front of the pyre and willed it to burn; it listened.

The flames warmed them all in the cold air, and Harry barely felt the snow melting around his knees from where he'd fallen to the ground. What he did feel was the warmth of Draco on his right, the warmth of Ron on his left, and the comfort of Crabbe standing guard behind them. Had he ever not wanted to know these boys? Had there ever been a time when he didn't feel like he did now?

From the castle, two sets of eyes watched the scene on the hill.

Harry had the strength to stand and he knew it. When he finally convinced his mind that he wanted to stand and walk away, he was stiff and he had dried tear tracks on his face, but he felt good—wonderful, peaceful. He spotted Snape standing in the back of the crowd and made his way through the cautiously parting throng to speak to him. Snape stared down a little disdainfully when Harry approached, but seemed to reel himself in and the look disappeared. Harry wordlessly nodded at Snape, and Snape returned the gesture. A small wicked crinkle began at the corner of Harry's eye, and before Snape knew it, he had an armful of Harry Potter; with a long-suffering sigh, he accepted it. That is, before the other three hooligans joined in.

The crowds dispersed as the hug went on and on, until they were the only people left on the bluff. Giggling madly, they let Snape go. On the way back to the castle the four boys walked together, following the irate potion's master who was mumbling snarkily as he adjusted his clothes. When they reached the castle steps they were greeted with a howl.

"Who knew, Moony? I ask you. Who knew that all we had to do was die to get Snape into an or-gy!"

"I know, I know, I've been biting myself. If only we'd known."

The two marauders gave each other commiserating looks, and burst into laughter.

"Oh god," Snape breathed. "Say this isn't happening to me."

Sirius grinned. "Say it isn't so, Snivy? I thought you _loved_ me?"

Snape snorted.

Draco was watching Harry carefully. Harry was taking in the sight of his milky white, transparent (or was it opaque?), godfathers. A sound, something like a cough or a sob, escaped him—then another, and another, until he was laughing and crying at the same time. Ron hit him on the upper back as Draco rubbed circles on his lower back. They exchanged a glance, behind said back, that read clearly—_if you ever speak of our teamwork on this matter I will be forced to torture you indefinitely_—both nodded.

The ghosts looked concerned.

"We're sorry, Harry." Remus said. "I know this must be some shock, but there was really no good way to tell you. Sirius thought that surprise would be easiest—you know, like hiccups? I should have known better than to listen."

"Oh puh-lease," Sirius said. "As if your idea to write him a note was any better!"

Remus looked affronted. "At least that way he would have had time to adjust before seeing us!"

"We can't hold a bloody quill!"

"Shut-up!"

"Make me, Moo-ny."

"Oh, I'll make you, you little dog-faced-shit-breathed-ball-licking—"

Harry stopped his snorting/coughing/sobbing and was silent for a full two seconds before he laughed so hard that he passed out. Snape rolled his eyes and levitated him, taking him to the infirmary. The boys and the ghosts, followed after.

Harry woke halfway there and screamed like a tiny monkey when he found himself floating in mid-air surrounded by people and ghosts.

"Did I die?" Harry asked.

No one had ever heard Snape laugh so heartily.

"No, Harry," Draco said calmly. "You just passed out like a corseted girly-man."

Harry smacked in Draco's general direction, ineffectually.

"Uhm, Snape?" he said, "could you possibly put me down?"

Snape grinned, shrugged, and lowered his wand; Harry hit the floor.

Ghost Sirius and ghost Remus leaned over him.

"That wasn't a hallucination then?" Harry asked them.

Remus shook his head sadly. "No, I'm afraid we're here to stay."

"You're not sorry we made this decision, are you Harry?" Sirius asked.

"Sorry? What? No," Harry said. "I just—are you two gonna be happy? You'll be—I mean, won't you be—stuck here?"

Sirius' grin had a devious edge. "We've got Sevy here to entertain us, plus all the kids, plus most important—you," he said.

"And you know," Remus said. "A ghost can always free themselves of their confinement on earth. It's just a matter of letting go, Harry. We're here for as long as we are here, simply by choice."

Harry nodded. "Can I get up off the floor? It's very hard and cold and…surprisingly? cobblestones are uncomfortable."

"No?" Sirius gasped. "But the brochure said it would be the best sleep you ever had!"

"What has happened to truth in advertising?" Remus lamented.

The three men, (well two ghosts and one sort of man) grinned at each other as Harry struggled to his feet.

"You're ok then?" Sirius asked.

"I'm ok," Harry confirmed.

Remus shifted anxiously. It was interesting to see a ghost do that. "Well, it turns out that ghosts have a surprising amount of nervous energy. So, if you don't mind Harry," he said, "Siri and I will just be…around."

Harry saw the horny look they exchanged and smiled, amused.

"Are you sure you won't stay for some tea?" Harry asked. "We should talk about _everything_ right away, all those years we missed. I can't wait another minute to hear everything about you two."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a weary glance. Harry chuckled.

"Go you two horn-dogs. I'll see you later."

The ghosts laughed with relief and Sirius changed into a ghostly dog form and took off down the hall and around a corner; Remus floated after him.

After a minute, Sirius' head appeared back around the corner (in his human form) and said, "Sev darling, you don't mind if we use your room do you? No? Good show old man," and quickly disappeared from sight.

Snape made a choking sound that might have been horror and might have been interest, and quickly ran after them.

Ron looked a little like he might be sick, but he held it back. "Harry," he said. "I should get going. You know I'd planned to—go visit—today."

"Visit who?" Crabbe asked.

Ron's gaze dropped to the floor. "Hermione," he said shortly.

"May I come?" Crabbe asked.

Ron's head jerked up, "Why?" he asked.

"Crabbe's had a mad crush on her for ages," Draco said.

"Thanks a bloody lot, Malfoy," Crabbe said. "I'm sure he's dying to have me go with him now."

But Ron looked thoughtful. "No," he said. "You should come."

Crabbe smiled slightly. "Thanks mate," he said.

Ron nodded and turned around and walked off. Crabbe followed him.

"Well," Draco said when they were alone again. "Those were hasty and suspicious exits, weren't they?"

"Yes," Harry said. "It was rather as if someone was trying to get us alone."

Draco grinned, wrapping one arm around Harry's waist and pulling his body against his own. "Now who would want to do something like that?" he asked.

Harry grinned, but a troubled look crossed his face. "Perhaps someone who knew that we needed to have a talk."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "Can we at least go back to the fun room with the lube?" he asked.

Harry nodded enthusiastically.

Draco stamped his foot when he saw the interior of the room of requirement. "Where's our bed?" he demanded.

There was in fact, a couch, a rug, a table, and a fireplace—but no bed.

"Wow," Harry said. "That's the first time this room has betrayed me."

Both boys flopped down on the couch, Draco naturally falling into the curve of Harry's arm as he lifted it up for him. They slouched against the side of the couch and Harry ran his fingers through Draco's stiff hair, working out the gel. Both were reluctant to say anything.

"Perhaps the room should have come with a strange man, equipped with a cattle prod, in order to make us talk," Draco mused.

Harry sighed. "I had so much to say to you this morning. I'm not sure where it went."

"Well, obviously the arrival of your godghosts canceled out the need for some of it," Draco said, a tiny moue of displeasure crossing his features.

"No, they didn't have anything to do with it. I mean, they did, but not really."

"Uh huh," Draco said. "I'm getting that message—yes sir, loud-and-clear."

Harry grunted and considered a round of torture/tickling but decided against it. "I just wanted to tell you that you were enough now, that I didn't feel alone, but also that I didn't need you."

Draco considered walking out in a huff, or even sitting up, but discarded that idea. "Thanks," he said.

"But it's wrong," Harry said. "I do need you. I thought that if I lost Remus, after losing everyone else—that I'd have to learn to be on my own. I knew that I could do it, but the thought of it was terrifying."

Draco hmm'd.

"But," Harry said. "I realize now that I'm not built for it. I don't want to be alone, and I was just forcing myself into believing I had to be. I'm a sad sack, woe-is-me, whining little pity party."

Draco laughed a bit.

"I'm surrounded by people," Harry said, awe in his voice.

"Yes," Draco said smoothly. "And how does that make you feel, Mr. Potter? Anxious? Claustrophobic?"

Harry placed a kiss on the top of Draco's head. "A little of both," he said, "except when I'm with you—then it feels right."

Draco sighed and settled further into Harry's arms. "I want to be with you for a very long time, Harry."

"I want to—there's so much I want to do for you Draco."

Both boys tightened their arms, Harry's around Draco, and Draco's around Harry's arms.

"Harry?" Draco asked after awhile. "Can you make me feel like that as well?"

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Like I'm surrounded by people who love me."

Harry smiled, and let some of his magic flow into the air around them. It crackled and pulsed with his emotions. "You are," he said.

Draco snorted. "Sap," he said, luxuriating in the ambient magic. "Thank you."


	17. Life After, Epilogue

A/N: The usual boring author's notes and thanks at the bottom.

* * *

Sun fell through the curtain to land on a head of brilliant red hair bent over the bed of an emaciated witch, her hair neatly braided. Ron read out loud from a huge tome, reading the words slowly and carefully—often consulting another book to discover how to pronounce something especially difficult. Beside his chair was another stack of books nearly as high as he was tall—a collection of Merlin's Magical Encyclopedias.

Magical stasis charms occasionally flashed vitals in the air above the bed, and on the other side of the room a nurse snored and snorked quietly in her sleep—sometimes repeating a word or two of what Ron had just read. He smiled softly as she murmured,

"Last…last of the line of…spell for synapse…" and trailed off into a snore.

Ron laughed lightly. "That's right Nurse Mayer," he whispered, "It's by Snell, last of the line of Termerand. A spell for magical synapse and nerve response." He glanced over at the nurse and spoke to her sleeping form. "Do you know, he used it on unicorns with great success…"

Ron sighed. He had been reading to Hermione from magical medical texts, curse texts, ancient healing texts, anything he could think of really—and he had finally had to resort to reading her veterinary texts.

It had been a brilliant idea of Crabbe's actually, to read Hermione research about her condition. Crabbe had suggested it one day when Ron had once again lamented that Hermione was probably the only one who would be able to figure out how to bring her out of her condition. Unfortunately, it had so far been fruitless. On the plus side—Ron had decided to become a healer. He had done more than the required reading and was apprenticed to Madam Pomfrey for the fall. In just a few years with a couple more classes, he would be certified—but still essentially useless to Hermione. He hung his head and laid it on her belly so that he could feel the rise and fall of her breath; this was his favorite way to sleep.

He didn't know precisely what he'd been hoping, perhaps that she would one day open her eyes and say 'Finally, Ron. I thought you'd never bring the right book.' It would have been nice. Since the day that Crabbe suggested it, Ron had been coming every other day with a new book. It had been almost two years now. Hermione had been in stasis since the war, which made it almost three years now. Ron idly wondered how long stasis could be maintained without brain damage, and then brought the figure up in his mind from past reading. Five years, was their best guess. Oddly, it didn't give Ron any hope that he might be here two years from now reading her who-knows-what. He had decided to start the botanical books Neville leant him next week. Veterinary medicine was getting tedious and irrelevant; if he had to read one more word about taking care of hags to the woman he loved—he was going to go mad.

Tired of reading, Ron started to mumble on about school and what he had been studying lately. He spoke it into the soft material of her nightgown over her stomach and hoped that he wasn't drooling on it again. For some reason, it really upset Nurse Mayer when he did that.

He told Hermione about the wandless magic they had been experimenting with in his healing class, the way that they learned to cast the spells without speaking them. He was really getting very good at it.

He told her about Harry and Draco and how happy they were at Hogwarts, teacher's aids in potions and defense.

That Sirius and Remus were haunting the halls, happily playing tricks and making students get in trouble, and most of all tormenting/loving Snape. Ron's lips curled into a smile when he told her about how happy Snape was; happy was certainly a relative term with that man.

He told her of Dumbledore's illness, and the prognosis that he hadn't long to live. He apologized for the time he had spent researching cures for the headmaster, when she should have been his biggest concern. He apologized for being useless, and weak, and braiding her hair crookedly, and being unable to help her even when it was what he most desperately wanted. He cried finally, soaking the cloth of her nightgown after all.

Ron absently noted the hand that had begun to stroke the back of his head. Sometimes the nurse did this when she heard him bawling, and it had long ago ceased to be embarrassing at all.

"My hair isn't crooked, I can tell," a raspy voice said.

Ron sniffed hard.

"You've," Hermione coughed hard and spoke again carefully, her eyes watering, "done a wonderful job with it, Ron."

Ron looked up. "Hermione?" he whispered.

She raised her eyebrows.

Ron stared at her for what felt like hours, taking in the slightly healthier hue of her skin, the tilt of her raised brows, the beautiful magic of her open brown eyes. He buried his face in her gown again and wept. "Hermione," he said, over and over—as quietly as if he whispered to the dead, but she was alive. She was back.

Hermione's hand had stopped petting the back of Ron's head and merely rested there now. "Ron, can I have some water?" she croaked.

Ron nodded blindly and filled a glass beside her bed. He lifted her head reverently and tipped the glass carefully, until she huffed in irritation.

"Honestly, Ron, I'm not going to break. I want to actually drink the water not just see it."

Ron barked out a laugh and came to his senses a bit more. He called for the nurse and she exclaimed over Hermione as if she were her own daughter. Hermione looked confused.

"What's happened?" she asked. "How long have I been out?"

Ron hung his head. He glanced at her out of the side of his eye.

"How long?" she asked again, calmly.

"Three years almost, Sweetie," Nurse Mayer answered for him. "Ron has been terribly worried about you."

Hermione smiled at Ron and reached up to touch his cheek. "I knew it had been some time," she said, "but I'd no idea…"

Ron choked, and Hermione weakly patted his hand were it lay on her bed.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, looking troubled. "You didn't seriously say that Harry and Malfoy are together did you?"

Ron laughed.

* * *

_Six months later..._

"Harry, get off your bloody arse," Draco whined. "We've got to be there by six, and you know that if we're late we'll get a howler from Ron. That whole fucking family is _way_ too fond of howlers; it's totally classless."

"Shuuupppppppppp—p," Harry groaned.

Draco stamped his foot. "I will not! Get up you useless prat!"

"Shhhhh…" Harry hissed.

"Harry Potter, if you don't get up I'll tell your godghosts every detail of what we did last night."

Harry opened one eye. "You wouldn't," he said.

Draco raised one eyebrow. "I would," he said.

"You'd blush and stammer, they'd not even understand you," Harry said confidently.

"I'll draw diagrams."

Harry snorted.

Draco picked up his wand and began drawing in the air.

Harry opened his other eye, he lifted his head, his face turned crimson, then calmed to pink, and he got an excited expression. "Did we really…" he asked.

Draco smirked.

Harry sighed, defeated. "I'm up, I'm up," he said. "I don't know what the big bloody deal is anyway. They can't start without me, I've got the rings."

Draco sighed. "Potter..."

"Well it's our first real Christmas together. I don't want to go anywhere," Harry whined.

Draco snorted. "It's just downstairs—not Timbuktu, and if we make Muggle-Mione's wedding start late she'll have your balls," he said, walking out of the room.

"Why not yours?" Harry called after him.

* * *

_Fifteen years later..._

"Professor Potter?" a tiny voice asked.

Harry smiled down at the little redheaded girl. "Clarissa, you know you can call me Uncle Harry. I don't care about school rules," he said, winking.

Clarissa wore a very prim look as she said, "Mummy said I mustn't do that, it makes it look like I'm getting favoritism."

"That's because you are Weasel-bait," Draco said, walking up behind them.

"Professor Malfoy," she said. "Uncle Sirius told me that you had something shoved up your butt, you don't do you?"

Harry spit his coffee back into his cup.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, seemingly searching for the ghost. "I do not!" he said hotly, then leaned over to Harry and whispered something in his ear.

Harry turned bright red and pinched Draco's arm.

Clarissa had a knowing look on her face. "Uncle Moony said I shouldn't ask you about your butt at my age."

"At any age, Miss Weasley," Snape said, slinking down the corridor.

Clarissa shot him a glare and stuck out her tongue. "Uncle Sirius said you'd say that, and he said that if you did then I should say that you've no room to talk about butts."

Snape scowled while Harry and Draco snickered.

"You should get to class Clarissa," Harry said. "I heard a girl in my second class say that the potions professor was a real git. You wouldn't want to anger him right away would you?"

Draco scowled at Harry. "You're a git," he muttered.

Clarissa smiled. "Uncle Draco, you won't be angry with me will you?" She batted her eyes hugged him, and Harry noticed that she covertly slipped something into the pocket of Draco's robes.

Draco beamed at her. "That's the spirit 'Lissa, manipulation is key to success!"

She nodded seriously.

"Come on luv," he said. "You can walk in with Professor Git himself, that way they will all know who's the favorite."

Clarissa winked at Harry and grabbed Draco's hand. Draco pecked Harry on the cheek and gave Snape a half-wave as they walked away. Snape started to say something to Harry, but Harry held up his hand in the universal signal for 'wait'. Harry counted, three, two, one...

There was a loud bang and Draco screamed, "Clarissa!" in a strained voice.

Clarissa squealed with glee and they heard her little feet running away down the corridor. Harry smiled.

Snape scoffed. "That child," he said. "Is going to be worse than the twins. I fear she'll have Miss Granger's brains and their mischievousness. I suppose we can only be grateful that she didn't get any of her father's traits—beyond the hair."

Harry smiled, Snape certainly knew how to hold a grudge. "Yes, Headmaster," he said smarmily.

Snape sneered. "Go and teach your bloody class you twit," he snarked.

Harry bowed low and turned to sweep out of the hall. "You'll be over tonight for dinner with everyone, Severus?" he asked.

"Yes, yes," Snape grumped. "Have I ever missed theglorious occasion?"

"You'll bring Vin?" Harry asked, grinning.

Snape blushed and nodded curtly, before turning on his heel and fleeing the corridor.

Harry laughed out loud.

"Finally got the old bag to admit his affair did you?" Sirius asked, floating through the wall.

"Honestly, Padfoot, will you ever stop torturing the man? Last night he floated in on them at _exactly_ the wrong minute—if you know what I mean, Harry," Lupin said, his ghostly eyes twinkling.

Harry covered his mouth to hold back his spew. "I—I know…" he said, and he too fled.

Sirius smirked at Remus. "I'm rather proud of us," he said.

"Why's that, Shaggy?"

"Well, there was all this drama, but all we really had to do was die. I'm chuffed."

"Ugh, no. I'll have you remember that I had to deal with the fallout from their _first_ little snogging session. You try asking that prude if his bits got caught in his zipper."

Sirius winced. "Are we going to dinner tonight?"

"Why would we miss it this week?"

"Oh I dunno," Sirius said. "There's so many of us now, I feel like we don't really have to be there."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dogbreath, we're all part of the package. Every single one of us is needed."

Sirius smirked. "And what do they need us for, Moony?" he asked.

Remus grinned. "Why, the floor show—what else?"

Sirius cackled, and the two ghosts floated down the corridor. "Hey," Sirius said, "let's go check on Snape. I'm afraid the old bugger won't be able to keep up with that youngster of his—we should give him some pointers."

"Ah, Sirius my love, that is so thoughtful of you."

* * *

Sooo... there it is! This is absolutely the last time that I write anything without having a _very_ clear idea where it's going before I start. I can't recall if I've tied up all the ends or not. And honestly, did it make any sense at all? I think not.;)

There is one loose end that I know I've neglected. But, as Potion's Master--we must all assume that Draco has cured his own back problems. Though, I choose to think that Snape probably did it long ago.

I feel like Siri and Remus needed rimshots during some of their dialogue in this...I'm quite bad at writing them.

Right, well, on with the thanks...

Which I've removed because... well... they're boring. Anyone who was on them has read it by now. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.


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